


Heaven Can't Wait

by justanotherjen



Series: Heaven Stories [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Heavy Angst, Humor, Kid Fic, Mild Gore, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 51,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherjen/pseuds/justanotherjen
Summary: Canon divergent. With the Apocalypse banging at their door, the Arkadians and what's left of Trikru take refuge in the remains of Alpha Station and hope for the best.Over 500 souls crammed into a tin can, but there's only one that has Bellamy wrapped around her little fingers.





	1. Can't Save Everyone

Thunder cracks in the distance as clouds gather over the mountains. Bellamy pointlessly watches the trees for trouble. The forest is eerily quiet without the familiar sounds of insects and birds. The animals are all gone. The grounders have fled to Arkadia or are trying their luck in Polis, mistakenly thinking their city will protect them. The planet is dying. _And there’s nothing we can do about it._

Another rumble of thunder sets him on edge. They’ve been waiting months for the black rain to start. Every dark cloud, every rumble of thunder, every rain shower threatens to be their last. On the horizon, lightning snakes across the sky. Already the air tastes sour. The breeze that should be damp before the storm prickles his skin with static electricity. It won’t be long.

Miller holds up a test tube and shakes it, his expression grim.

“No good?”

He tosses the tube into the woods before wiping his hands on his pants. “Tainted.”

Bellamy sighs. “That’s every stream within five miles. There’s no clean drinking water left. Nothing will survive out here.”

“We can’t save everyone, Bellamy,” Miller murmurs. Lightning flashes, and the thunder that follows is closer. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We’re not going to find anything.”

They start walking at a steady pace, the storm trailing behind them. They spent the last two days going through every grounder village they could find looking for refugees. The grounders that didn’t try to kill them also didn’t want their help. They wouldn’t listen to reason no matter what.

Bellamy hates to think of what will happen to them. But he can’t force them. They pleaded for over an hour at the door of a widow with five children. He could tell she was already getting sick. They begged to take the children, but she refused. The thought coils in his stomach, making him sick.

Next to him, Miller snorts.

“What?” Bellamy asks.

“I just never thought we’d find ourselves back here. You know, locked up in that tin can. After everything.” He shakes his head. “But, hey, Alpha Station. Better than being stuck in Mecha.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Just be glad it wasn’t the Skybox that survived the crash.”

Miller visibly shivers, making Bellamy laugh again. A crack of a branch to their left has them both tensed. It’s getting late, and the storm clouds aren’t helping visibility. Bellamy scans the forest for signs of movement. Just when he thinks it was nothing, there’s a crunch of leaves. Bellamy signals Miller to go around the left while he flanks on the right.

They move silently—in sync after all of these months on the ground—careful not to alert whatever might be hiding. From the scuffling noises, it sounds big. Bigger than a rabbit or fox. Not that they’ve seen many of those around lately. But anything could possibly be food.

Bellamy’s getting closer. He hears a growl from his left and realizes the animal is hunting something else. _Two for the price of one_. He sets himself up to take out the predator once it’s captured its prey.

Through the brush, Bellamy sees sleek black fur rippling over smooth muscle. One of those panthers then. God, he hates them. They’re fast and savage, and their nails are like razors. Niylah swears Clarke took one down all on her own with only a knife. Clarke will neither deny nor confirm that Wanheda myth. Bellamy’s not sure if he believes it, but it’s Clarke so anything’s possible. He smiles at that thought then curses himself for losing the panther in the trees.

He hunches down, weaving between low branches, searching the surrounding area for a glimpse of black. He hears a whimper from ahead and presses up against a tree. He peers around it. The cat is off to the right—its yellow eyes glowing through some ferns. To his left, the prey.

Bellamy squints in the dim light, trying to make out what kind of animal it is. His eyes widen with a gasp. “No.” He glances back at the cat as it readies to pounce, and without thinking, he moves.

The cat races forward at the same time Bellamy does. He launches himself at the cat’s prey, grabbing it around the waist and rolling. It screams. Something slices into Bellamy’s shoulder, but he doesn’t let go. He curls around the tiny body in his arms as the cat screeches. He can feel its breath on his neck. _Jesus_.

Then there’s a _pop pop pop_ and a howl.

Feet pound up behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” Miller shouts. “Are you insane?”

Bellamy falls onto his back with a groan as pain shoots through his shoulder. The small girl looks up at them with a quivering lip then starts to wail.

“Shit.”

_That’s the understatement of the century._


	2. One Life Saved Is One Life Saved

“Would you shut her up,” Miller hisses. “You know these things don’t always hunt alone.”

“I’m trying.” Bellamy pushes back the little girl’s dirty, matted hair—she looks about three-years-old. Her face is caked in mud and tears, but he doesn’t find any obvious signs of injuries. _She’s just scared_. “It’s going to be okay,” he tells her softly, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “You’re safe now.” She sniffles, smearing snot across her cheek with the back of her hand. He squeezes her shoulders with a smile. “See? You’re okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Miller mutters.

Bellamy ignores him. “Do you have a name, sweetheart?” The girl blinks at him through a tangle of wet lashes—her chocolate-brown eyes never leaving his. He tries again in broken Grounder, mispronouncing most of the words and wishing he’d paid more attention. She cocks her head but doesn’t answer. He thinks she understands, though.

“God, your Grounder is terrible. Let’s just go. I don’t want to be out here when this storm breaks. I happen to like my skin on my bones.”

The little girl begins whimpering again as soon as Bellamy stands. Her lip quivers, and after years of dealing with Octavia, he knows she’s on the verge of a full-on tantrum. “It’s okay,” he tells her in what he hopes is a soothing voice. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe.”

“What if she has a family?” Miller asks. “Maybe they’re looking for her.”

Bellamy shoots him a look. “I thought you wanted to go home?”

Miller arches an eyebrow.

“We are not leaving her.”

Miller sighs. “Then just grab her. We don’t have time for this.”

Behind them, the sky lights up, and the thunder that follows rocks the ground. Miller’s right—there’s no time to search for a family. Besides, it doesn’t look like anyone’s taken care of her in a long time. Bellamy lifts her into his arms. She weighs almost nothing like she hasn’t eaten in days. _How long has she been out here? Where is her family? How could they just abandon her like this_?

He squashes the growing anger and wraps his jacket around her tiny, shivering body. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie. You’re safe now.” He repeats it over and over as they walk until, eventually, her breathing evens out and her body goes limp. Bellamy sighs with relief.

Miller side-eyes him. “You’re like a natural at that.”

“At what?”

“That.” He waves at Bellamy and the girl. “Like kid stuff.”

Bellamy shrugs. “I had Octavia to practice on.”

Miller snorts. “I can’t imagine Octavia ever being that small and helpless.”

Bellamy laughs, too. “Small, yes. Helpless, never.” He runs a hand over the girl’s head then rests it on her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breaths. She does remind him an awful lot of Octavia. Fierce and determined. And brave. Octavia had a strength Bellamy always admired even when they were kids. It was what was going to get her through everything that had happened. Everything he’s done to her. He forces down a sudden lump in his throat. _Not the time to think about that_.

Thunder booms suddenly, startling the girl. She screams then buries her face in his neck with a muffled sob. Her fingers twist into his hair. He whispers comforting words into her ear as they pick up the pace.

“We’re not going to make it,” Miller says, looking back at the mountains.

Bellamy glances over his shoulder. He can no longer tell where the sky ends and the clouds begin. It’s one giant, roiling mass, crackling with electricity and spitting lightning. Icy fingers of fear wrap around his chest, squeezing out the air. “We need to find cover.”

“The cave?”

Another deafening clap of thunder shakes the ground so hard he can feel it in his bones. The grip around his neck threatens to strangle him. Bellamy checks the storm again—it’s moving fast to the east cutting them off from the hills around Mt. Weather. He shakes his head. “We’ll never make it. The dropship is closer.”

They veer south in a desperate dash to outrun the outer edge of the storm. With every flash of lightning and roar of thunder, the girl squeezes him tighter, yanking his hair. The air is charged, prickling his skin and making every hair on his arms stand up. He pulls the collar of his jacket over the girl’s head, trying to cover as much of her as he can. Then they run. Faster than Bellamy’s ever run before.

“We’re going to cut it close,” Miller says through gasps.

Bellamy’s lungs burn, but he doesn’t slow. He dodges a boulder then hops a log, barely managing to keep his balance when he lands. Ahead, he sees the dropship towering over the trees. Miller hits the ramp as the first raindrops sizzle around them. _Shit_. Bellamy ducks under some low-hanging branches then dives into the dropship, rolling with the girl.

Miller pulls the lever before Bellamy’s all the way in, closing the door. He leans against the wall with a relieved sigh. “That was close.”

“No kidding.” Bellamy sits up and attempts to pry open the little fingers tangled in his hair, but the girl refuses to let go. He tries to reassure her with circles on her back like his mother used to do. It always worked with Octavia. At the least, her trembling subsides even if she continues to cling to him like velcro.

“What are we going to do with her?” Miller asks after a while.

Bellamy tucks her hair behind her ear. Her face is streaked with tears though she’s no longer crying. _That has to be a good sign_. “I don’t know. Maybe we can find a grounder family to take her.”

“That’s probably for the best. They’d know how to take care of her a hell of a lot better than us.”

Bellamy snorts. “Was that ever on the table?”

Miller rolls his eyes with a laugh. “You know what I meant.” He throws a spent shell casing at him, but it bounces off of the girl’s back, startling her. Bellamy glares. “Why’d you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Sorry,” Miller mumbles. He shoves off the wall. “I’m going to go look upstairs.”

Bellamy slides over to the wall, trying to get comfortable. He manages to get the girl to let go of his neck. She curls up in his lap, thumb in her mouth. His eyes drift shut—his breathing matching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Outside, the storm rocks the dropship, throwing gale-force winds and acid rain at the already battered ship. He wonders how much more it can take. “We’ll be safe for now,” he murmurs into the girl’s hair. _I hope_.

The girl snorts then presses her face into his chest with a sigh. Bellamy smiles, hugging her closer. Maybe some good came of their mission after all. One life saved is one life saved. It’s not enough to balance out the evil he’s done, but it’s a start. _It has to be or… Or what? I can’t live with myself? Can’t keep living?_ He shakes the thought from his head. He’s not quite that pathetic yet.

 _And it’s too late to atone for your sins after you’re dead_.

He lets the girl’s gentle snores lull him to sleep, and for once, he doesn’t dream of the demons chasing him.


	3. Not Alone Anymore

_What was that_?

Bellamy jerks out of the first solid sleep he’s had in weeks. Something woke him, but his foggy brain is struggling to catch up. He blinks bleary eyes around the dark dropship. Miller is curled into a ball on the other side of the room, a bottle of Monty’s moonshine cradled in his arms. _Where the heck did he find that?_ A loud bang from above brings him out of his sleepy stupor. He sits up straight and goes for his gun, heart racing. Then he looks down at his jacket discarded over his legs. _The girl_.

He grabs a lantern and quickly climbs the ladder, searching the darkness for a small body. “Hey kid,” he calls softly. “Where’d you go?”

Something drops to his left, rolling across the metal deck. He tip-toes towards the noise, not wanting to scare her. The light finally catches on her eyes glowing from a crevice between some crates, an empty tin of food in her dirty hands. Bellamy squats in front of her. “Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing up here alone?”

She cocks her head, wedging herself in tighter. Bellamy eyes the tin. “Guess you’re hungry, huh? Why don’t you come out here, and I’ll see if I can find some food?”

She clutches the tin tighter like she’s afraid he might take it away. He taps his knee then leaves her there. Downstairs, he grabs his pack and jacket. Miller rolls over, the moonshine clattering to the floor. Bellamy picks it up, setting it on the casing to the door lever with a sigh.

Back upstairs, the little girl is gone from her hideout. He sets his stuff down on one of the seats then pulls out a small bag and bottle of water. “Kid? Where’d you go? I’ve got something for you.” A shadow catches his attention as it moves across the wall to his left. He finds the girl under a pile of seats and empty crates. She wraps her arms around her legs and stares up at him through a curtain of stringy hair. _She’s so tiny. How has she been surviving? Why hasn’t anyone come for her?_

The answer frightens him. _Because they’re all dead. And she’s alone._ Bellamy sits down on the other side of her “cave” and shakes the bag again. “You hungry? It’s not much, but it’s not bad,” he says, popping a dried berry into his mouth. Her little head raises. She licks her lips as her eyes track him eating another berry. Her stomach growls so loudly, Bellamy can almost feel it himself.

“If you come out, you can have some.” When she still doesn’t move, he eats a few more berries and takes a long sip of water, wiping his mouth with a dramatic flourish and sigh. Then he sets them down. “You know what, I think I forgot something downstairs. I’ll be right back.”

He leaves his stuff and the light, retreating to the other side of the room. It’s only a few seconds before the girl squeezes out from between the seats. She looks around quickly then snatches the bag of fruit. She sniffs several berries before stuffing them in her mouth by the handful. He’s afraid she might choke as she inhales the food but can’t help smiling.

He creeps closer, but she hears him, dropping the food and knocking over the bottle. She looks from the food to her shelter to Bellamy, obviously unsure what to go for. Bellamy’s amusement vanishes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hut you.”

Her eyes dart to him for only a second. She grabs the spilled bag of food and darts for the safety her cave. She’s breathing hard when he sits down again, not sure what to do with her. “We just need to get you back to Arkadia. Abby will know what to do,” he tells her even though he knows she doesn’t understand. “You won’t have to be alone anymore.” _Because being left behind sucks. I know from experience._

Bellamy scoots back against a crate and crosses his ankles in front of him as he watches the girl eat. When she gets to the bottom of the bag, she tips it up, crumbs falling into her mouth, then starts licking the insides. She must be starving. He wishes he had more food. He did have water, though. He picks up the bottle, getting her attention again, and[-1] takes another slow sip. She stops to watch with her hand over her mouth, fingers sticky with juice. He holds it out to her. “You want some? It’s a little warm.”

She crawls forward and grabs for it from behind her pile of junk, but Bellamy pulls it back. “You’re going to have to come out if you want it.”

She narrows her eyes like she’s considering clawing his eyes out to get to the water. Placing the bottle just outside of her reach, he sits back to wait, eyes closed. He peeks at her when he hears the debris moving. She scrambles over, lunging for the bottle. Except she can’t figure out how to open it.

Bellamy holds back laughter as she gnaws on the lid then bangs it on the ground. Then she completely surprises him by throwing the bottle at his head. He manages to get his arms up in time to block it, but he can’t stop himself from laughing now. “Ow, that hurt. Anyone ever tell you that you have an anger problem?”

Twisting off the cap, he takes a sip before holding it out to her again. She continues to glare, but inches closer, getting more and more angry when he keeps moving it farther away. Finally, she gets up and stomps over, murder in her eyes.

He hands her the bottle, and she guzzles it, water dribbling down her chin. When she’s had her fill, she wipes her mouth and mimics his dramatic sigh. Bellamy laughs. _The kid’s a riot._ She holds the water bottle out to him, but when he tries to take it back, she jerks it away—a smirk on her face.

“You little snot.” _So much like Octavia_. Bellamy digs his fingers into her ribs, smiling as she squirms and giggles. Now that she’s more relaxed around him, he carries her over to his bag and wraps his jacket around her. She stands there staring at the sleeves that hang off the ends of her hands all the way to the floor. She flaps her arms, the extra material flying everywhere. It makes her giggle again and Bellamy grins. _Giggles might be the best sound in the world. Especially little girl giggles._ The weight that’s been pressing on him all week lightens a little.

He shakes his head at the sudden swell of affection then unties his blanket from the pack, spreading it across the floor. As soon as he lies down the girl plops down next to him. With a yawn, she curls up against his chest, thumb in her mouth.

“Guess we’re friends now, huh?”

She just hums. Octavia hummed in her sleep, too. They shared a bed until he was a teen, snuggling under his one blanket. A _nd pressing her freezing feet against my legs just to torture me._ He snorts at the happy memory, but it quickly sours as reality settles back in. _She can’t even stand to look at me now_. It triggers a burning ache in his heart, but he doesn’t blame her. _It’s all my fault_.

Bellamy tugs the edge of the blanket over the girl and tucks her head under his chin. She lets out a contented sigh as he runs his hand over her matted hair. A moment later, she’s snoring softly—her hot breaths puffing against his neck. He’s surprised at how relaxed he feels in that moment. How can one little girl have that effect on him?

_It’s because she reminds you of Octavia, that’s all. Don’t get attached._

He thinks it might be too late.


	4. Don't Get Attached

Bellamy wakes again with a jolt. He notices right away his arms are empty, his jacket in a heap next to him. There’s a lot of banging downstairs followed by a string of curses from Miller. Bellamy is on his feet in seconds. _What now?_

Halfway down the ladder, he pauses to laugh at the scene. Miller is standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, glaring at the little girl. She’s on one of the lopsided crates, growling and snapping at him—her hair and eyes wild.

Miller turns his glare on Bellamy. “Shut up and do something with her. She’s evil. I caught her going through my pack, and when I tried to stop her, she bit me.” He holds up his hand as proof.

Still chuckling, Bellamy hops the rest of the way down. “She’s probably just hungry. She was looking for food.”

“She could have asked,” Miller mutters, returning his supplies to his pack with more force than necessary. “Not that I’d share if I had any. Crazy demon child.”

“Hey kid,” Bellamy says, ignoring Miller’s grumbling. He approaches the agitated girl cautiously, arms out in a placating manner. Her eyes leave Miller to watch him cross the room. “It’s okay—no one’s going to hurt you. But you can’t go around biting people. It’s not nice to bite.”

Miller snorts. The girl stomps her foot at him in what she probably thinks is a menacing way, but even Miller has to smile. She’s too damn cute. “You’re right,” he says, “she is just like Octavia. Annoying, pig-headed, crazy.” He ticks off each example. “Scary,” he adds when the girl growls.

Bellamy tries not to laugh. “She’s just a kid.”

Miller holds up his hand where Bellamy can now see teeth imprints. The corners of his lips are still twitching though. “I’m going to go check outside. Good luck with-” He waves his hand at the girl. “-that.”

The ramp opens with a deafening screech of metal on metal. The girl screams and launches herself at Bellamy, barely giving him time to catch her. She wraps him in a death grip, shaking and sobbing into his shoulder. “Hey,” Bellamy says, trying to pull her hair back so he can see her face. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He rubs her back as he rocks from one foot to the other, trying to calm her. Eventually, her sobs turn to sniffles. “See, all better,” he whispers. She sniffs and wipes her nose on his shirt. Bellamy groans.

Her grip on him loosens so he sets her back on the crate. He slips her hair behind her ears. She examines him with an intense gaze that he’s sure penetrates right into his soul. Her head tilts like she’s trying to figure something out. The movement is so familiar now it makes Bellamy grin.

But then she reaches out suddenly and touches his lips, startling him. He doesn’t dare move. Her other hand slides down his cheek. She watches him with this sad, haunted look in her eyes that breaks his heart.

“Come here.” He wraps her in a tight embrace. “You’re going to be okay now. I won’t let anything happen to you.” _You can’t promise her that_ , says the voice in the back of his head. _Not in this world. You can’t even protect your own sister._ He swallows hard.

_But I can try._

She doesn’t cry this time—she just rests her head on his shoulder, thumb in her mouth. Her other hand drifts up his neck until her fingers twist into the curls there. She sighs softly. _Don’t get attached, don’t get attached, don’t get attached._

“Storms over,” Miller says, jogging up the ramp. His voice sounds way too loud in the small space. “You should see this, though.”

Bellamy sighs and follows Miller outside, the girl tightening her hold as they leave the safety of the dropship.

“Look,” says Miller, pointing at the ship. “There and there.”

“What am I looking at?”

“The holes. I think the rain ate through the dropship. At least the outer hull.”

“Shit.” Bellamy moves closer and runs his finger over an almost perfectly round hole. He quickly pulls it back, the tip blistering. “Still some acid on it.”

Miller shakes his head. “That can’t be good, right? Is the Ark going to make it? What if the rain just eats through that, too?”

He’s starting to sound a little panicky. Bellamy’s barely keeping his own anxiety in check. “We’ll be fine. Raven and Monty know what they’re talking about. The dropship wasn’t made to withstand prolonged elements or radiation. It was just supposed to get from point A to point B.”

“From the Ark to the ground. Through the blazing fire of reentry,” Miller says flatly.

_Okay, he has a point._ Bellamy looks back at the dropship. “It was pretty banged up in the landing. And we kind of roasted it. It’s been through a lot. The Ark is in better shape.”

Miller scoffs. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?” _Can it be both?_

Bellamy shoots him a glare just as the girl shivers violently. It’s early morning—the sun barely up—and the wind is blowing down from the mountains. It’s a little on the chilly side of spring. He returns to the dropship, Miller following.

“Can you watch her for a second?” he says, setting the girl in one of the broken seats.

“Wait, what?”

Bellamy climbs the ladder two rungs at a time and quickly rolls up his blanket before grabbing the water bottle and jacket. He’s gone maybe three minutes, but when he gets back down, the seat is empty.

“Where’d she go?”

Miller looks up from repacking his bag. “Uh-”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You lost her already?”

“I didn’t lose her—she’s probably just hiding.”

_Probably. She is good at that_. Bellamy searches all of the nooks and crannies on the main level. _Nothing. Where is she?_ He glances at the open ramp, his heart rate speeding up. Quickly, he swings his pack over his shoulder and heads outside. “Kid,” he calls. “You out here?” Only silence. Not even a bird or cricket.

He jerks his head at Miller who sighs and starts looking along the left side of camp. Bellamy takes the right. They meet at the gate a few minutes later. Miller shrugs. Bellamy’s chest tightens, making it hard to breathe. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know,” Miller mumbles. At least he looks abashed. Bellamy still wants to punch him in the gut.

“You were supposed to be watching her. I was gone for less than five minutes and you lost her.”

“I’m sorry, okay? She couldn’t have gone far—her legs are short.”

Bellamy knows he’s joking, but he’s not in the mood. He shakes his head as they exit camp. _The forest is a big place. How are we going to find her? It was dumb luck last time._ Miller has one thing right, though—her legs are little. He figures she couldn’t have gotten more than a hundred yards away.

Miller smacks his arm. “I have a hunch. This way.”

Bellamy thinks about arguing, but what’s the point? They have to start somewhere. He follows Miller, but the farther they get from camp, the more nervous he gets. “Miller-”

“There,” Miller says, triumphantly.

He looks to where Miller’s pointing at a tiny footprint in the fresh mud. They follow the prints until the trees open to a patch of sunshine. The little girl is sitting in the middle of the clearing—her hands skimming over the top of the grass as she hums.

“How-”

Miller lets out a whistle. Suddenly, hundreds of butterflies break from the trees. Their iridescent wings sparkle in the sun. It has a magical effect. The girl giggles. Miller shrugs at Bellamy’s confused look. “Octavia had a thing for butterflies. She came here a lot.”

Relief floods Bellamy. He finally feels like he can breathe again. He squats down in front of the girl who holds up a puffy dandelion with a smile. Bellamy chuckles then blows on the flower until the individual little seeds flutter away on the breeze. “You can’t go wandering off like that,” he tells her softly. “You could get hurt.”

She has no idea what he’s saying, but sometimes it almost seems like she understands. She stands then walks right into his arms, hugging him around the neck. Bellamy bundles her in his jacket with a sigh.

Miller waits at the edge of the clearing, pretending not to be amused by the entire situation. “Octavia might get a little pissed that you’re replacing her.”

Bellamy snorts. _Doubtful_. “Let’s just go before anything else can go wrong.” In the distance, he can already see dark clouds gathering, mirroring his thoughts. _As if we could get that lucky._


	5. Finally Got Something Right

Bellamy keeps one eye on the gathering clouds to the west and the other on Alpha Station towering over the trees to the southeast. _Still a few miles to go_. Anxiety twists his stomach. There’s no shelter between them and Arkadia. Not this time. They left the dropship behind hours ago, and Bellamy’s body aches from carrying his pack and the little girl clinging to his neck. He thinks she understands the urgency because she hasn’t made a peep since the butterflies.

Jogging next to him, Miller is equally quiet. Bellamy’s not sure if it’s from exertion or fear. In the distance, lightning snakes across the sky, thunder rumbling softly behind it. It sounds miles away, but Bellamy knows it’s a false security. The storm is traveling fast, gaining on them every hour. _At that speed, it’ll be on us in thirty minutes. Maybe less_. His breath catches. _We’re not going to make it._

“You should go,” Bellamy tells Miller. “You’ll be able to outrun the storm.”

“No.”

“Miller-”

“I said, ‘no.’ I’m not leaving you. End of discussion.”

As worried as he is about his friend, Bellamy’s kind of relieved. It might get him killed, but Miller’s loyalty means a lot to him, especially after everything that happened with Pike. It gives him hope that maybe he can fix things with the others.

The sky flashes a brilliant white, and this time, the thunder is much louder. Closer. Bellamy knows the moment the storm breaks. The ground shudders with the next boom of thunder. Hundreds of birds screech into the sky, trying futility to escape. He watches in horror as they drop one by one. _Shit. We are so screwed._

Miller skids to a halt. Bellamy stops a few feet away, breathing heavy.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Lose the pack,” Miller says, dropping his bag. He digs through it, pulling out extra ammo which he stuffs in his pockets. Bellamy’s still staring so Miller tugs the pack from his back. “Lighter load means faster running.”

Bellamy moans in relief when the weight of the pack is gone. Miller finds his extra ammo and a knife, stashing them as well. The sky lights up again, nearly blinding them. The girl whimpers into Bellamy’s shoulder—her little hands twisting the fabric of his shirt into knots. He adjusts his hold so he can rub her back. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

“You want me to take her?” Miller asks suddenly. “You’ve been carrying her for hours.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Let’s just go.” It’s not that he doesn’t trust Miller to carry her. And if he’s honest, it’s not even because he thinks she will freak out if Miller tries to touch her. He just doesn’t want to let her go. He’s committed to getting her back safely. He has to do this. _Because your dumbass went and got attached_ , says that voice. _Because I have to do something right to balance out all of the evil_. He’s pretty sure the voice scoffs at him.

The screams of hundreds of unseen dying animals encourage them to pick up their speed. Bellamy’s nearly out of breath when they finally stumble out of the forest. The gates to Arkadia stand open—no guards in sight. They’ll all be inside with the storm coming.

The rain starts as they hit the gate. At first, it’s nothing more than little plinks that sizzle in the dirt. But it grows. A drop lands on the back of Bellamy’s neck. He grits his teeth and tucks his jacket around the girl, trying to cover as much of her as he can. The pain doesn’t go away.

Next to him, Miller hisses, smacking at his burning skin.

“Go,” Bellamy yells, giving him a shove forward. This time, Miller doesn’t argue, shooting across the empty yard.

Bellamy’s heart drops when the door to the Ark starts to close. Miller shouts and waves his arms to get their attention. It swings back open, and a startled David Miller steps out. The other guards yell for them to hurry, as if they weren’t already running for their lives. _Literally_.

The storm finally catches up—the rain falling harder. Every inch of his exposed skin is on fire. He pulls his jacket tighter around the girl, but he can’t protect her completely. She shrieks with each raindrop that burns through the material.

Miller reaches the Ark first, diving in. Bellamy stumbles on the uneven ground, nearly falling. Miller must try to come back out because his father struggles with him. They’re still arguing when Bellamy falls through the door a moment later.

He slides to the floor with a groan. The girl’s screams have subsided to soft sobs. He can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion or if she’s strained her vocal chords. He’s barely aware of the people around him—their shouts drowned out by the pounding of blood in his head. Someone douses him with water, but it does nothing for the pain.

The girl starts crying again. Bellamy has enough strength to wash down her legs where the majority of her burns are.

“What the?” David says, gently removing Bellamy’s jacket. His gasp says it all. “Where did you find her?”

Miller’s lost his jacket, shirt, and pants in his effort to wash away all of the acid. “About twenty miles from here. She almost got eaten by a panther.”

“Alone?”

Miller nods.

“Jesus.” David squats down and tries to brush the girl’s hair from her face, but she presses it against Bellamy’s chest, her grip tightening. “Poor thing.”

“What’s going on?” Abby’s voice raises above the others as she pushes through the crowd that’s gathered at the end of the hall. “Did everyone make it inside in time? Nathan, are you alright?”

Miller points at Bellamy. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Bellamy looks up at Abby’s shocked face. He must look bad because she hasn’t even noticed the girl. He can tell when she finally does by the double-take. “Oh,” she says, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s back, but she cringes away with a whimper.

He cradles her closer, whispering in her ear to calm her. “You’re going to be okay. Just like I promised.” He rests his head against the cool wall. _Finally got something right._

Abby’s face goes into full-on doctor mode. “Get her to Medbay. Now.”

Bellamy doesn’t need to be told twice.


	6. A Little Sidetracked

David and Miller haul Bellamy to his feet. He feels faint but manages to stay upright. David falls back to give Abby a report while Miller walks next to him in his underwear, still wiping at his skin. “God this burns.”

_Yeah, it does. Like a sonofabitch_. He squeezes the tiny body in his arms. He’s overwhelmed with worry when she doesn’t respond. He can feel her shallow breaths against his chest, but she’s not moving. Not sucking her thumb. Not pulling at his hair. _When did that become comforting?_

Abby catches up with them as they get to Medbay. “Over there,” she says, pointing at an exam table.

Miller hops up on another one. Abby ignores him, following Bellamy. He tries to put the girl down, but she finally comes to life, clinging to him—nails digging into his already raw neck. He grits his teeth. “Come on, kid, we’re not going to hurt you.” His words come out clipped with an edge on them that he hadn’t intended. She starts to cry. _No, don_ _’t cry. Please don’t cry. Shit_.

“It’s okay,” says Abby, brushing the girl’s hair from her face. “We’ll take it slow.”

The girl turns away with a whimper. “Don’t be scared,” Bellamy tells her. “Remember, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He rocks her gently until she stops crying with a loud sniffle, wiping her nose on his shirt again. She shifts her head to see Abby out of the corner of her eye. “That’s my girl,” he whispers with a swell of pride. S _how them you_ _’re stronger than you look._

Abby smiles. “Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you a pretty thing. Can you let me look at you?”

There must be something universally soothing about a mother’s voice because she starts to relax. Bellamy sighs in relief when her hands drop from his neck.

Abby holds out a small device. “This is a light. See?” She flips is off then on, the light bouncing off the metal table. “I’m just going to shine it in your eyes real quick, okay?” The girl doesn’t move and only jerks away slightly when the light moves across her face. “Good girl.”

She continues to track the light intently as Abby tries to see more of her face and body. Taking it from Abby, Bellamy waves it at the girl. “Hey, you want this? You gotta sit up like a big girl, okay? Then you can play with it.” He knows she doesn’t understand, but she’s fascinated by the light. She leans away from him as he moves it towards the table, setting it down just out of her reach.

Everyone holds their breaths, waiting. They miss the annoyed look she gives him. She hasn’t forgotten this game—it makes Bellamy smile. Curiosity gets the better of her, though. Slowly, she releases Bellamy and crawls onto the table. Abby gives him a grateful smile. Her approval warms his cheeks and lightens his heart more than he’d ever admit.

“What’s going on?” Clarke rushes into the room. “I heard someone got caught out in the rain.” She stops short when she sees Miller and Bellamy. A little gasp catches in her throat. He must look as bad he feels. “What happened?”

“Bellamy’s old and slow, that’s what happened,” Miller says with a snort.

Bellamy gives him a withering look. “We got a little sidetracked.” He nods at the table he’s leaning against where Abby is attempting to examine the girl’s ears while she plays with the light, flicking it on and off into her own eyes. 

Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, wow.”

“That about covers it. We found her just wandering around. She almost became lunch.”

“It didn’t happen to be a big cat?”

He cocks an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, why?”

She turns him around and pokes his shoulder.

“Ow.” He looks back at four tears in his shirt.

Clarke takes in the rest of him with a grimace.

“That bad?”

She shakes her head, but the pale expression on her face says otherwise. He takes his first hard look at his body. His arms are pock-marked with angry welts and oozing sores. His pant legs are dotted with red-rimmed holes. He swallows hard.

Clarke’s hands tremble as she fumbles to unroll some gauze. Bellamy stills them. “Hey, I’m okay. Really.”

“No, you’re not.” Anger flashes in her eyes. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Act like your suffering isn’t worth the same as everyone else’s. Like you deserve it.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that because she can read him like an open book sometimes. When he doesn’t answer, she slides her hands free with a frustrated sigh. “Sit,” she orders.

He obediently hops onto the table and studies Clarke as she cleans the wounds on his face. She works as she always does—careful and focused. Her movements are precise but gentle. Tender. It’s not that he doesn’t want to believe her. He really does, if for no other reason than to make her happy, but he can’t see it. His atrocities—the pain he’s caused—outweigh anything he’s feeling. He _does_ deserve this. There aren’t words to explain the conflict in his heart, at least none Clarke would accept, so he sits still and lets her do her thing.

Her breath is warm on his face. Only inches separate them, and he can’t help his eyes darting to her lips. A lump forms in his throat. _Now is not the time for this_. He takes a calming breath and squeezes his eyes shut before he does something stupid. _There will never be a time for this._ Just something else he doesn’t deserve.

She pauses. “Am I hurting you?”

_Not in the way you think._ Bellamy shakes his head. They both know it’s a lie, but she keeps quiet as she moves on to his shoulder. Still, he hisses when the tattered fabric pulls from his back, surely taking half his skin with it.

On the table next to him, the little girl freezes, her eyes suddenly on them. Bellamy smiles tightly. “I’m okay,” he tells her, hoping his voice doesn’t betray the pain. “Really.” She cocks her head, brow furrowed. Obviously, he’s not fooling anyone.

Abby manages to get a blood pressure cuff over the girl’s arm while she’s distracted. But when it starts to squeeze, her attention turns towards the offending device. She thrashes about, slapping and snarling at it. She’s almost comical in her fierceness. _Could she be any more like Octavia?_ His smile turns genuine at the thought.

“Okay, okay,” Abby says, disconnecting the cuff. As soon as it deflates, the girl tears it off and chucks it across the room in a huff. Miller coughs, hiding a laugh behind his fist. Bellamy’s smile grows. _Damn, she_ _’s adorable._

“Ow!” Bellamy jumps, turning a glare at Clarke who tries to look all innocent despite the bottle of something that appears to be iodine in her hands. No wonder it hurt so much. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning the wounds. Those claws can hold all sorts of bacteria. And this is going to need sutures.”

“I’m fine. Just put some of those butterfly things on it,” he grumbles ignoring the scathing look she gives him. “As much radiation that’s out there, I doubt- OW! Stop that.”

A little hand lands on his other shoulder. He wraps a steadying arm around the girl as she perches on the edge of the table, watching Clarke intently. The next time he hisses, the girl smacks Clarke with the light.

“Hey.” Clarke snatches her hand away. The girl growls, baring her teeth. Miller can’t contain his amusement anymore. He nearly falls off of his table laughing. Next to him, Jackson turns away, his shoulders hitching with silent chuckles. Even Abby snickers.

The girl raises the light in warning as Clarke moves closer again, holding up a square of gauze. “I’m just trying to help him, okay? See?” She motions for the girl to look, but her hilarious scowl never leaves Clarke’s face. On his other side, Abby is biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Clarke shoots her mother an irritated look before turning back to the girl. “I have to clean his-” She scrunches her brow in the most adorable way as she searches for reassuring words. “I have to clean his ouchie.”

That’s it—Abby’s gone. She leans on the table for support as she’s overcome with giggles. Jackson covers his mouth and darts out of the room, Miller on his heels. It’s probably a good idea because Clarke looks ready to murder someone.

“I swear I’m not going to hurt him,” she says in an even tone that does nothing to soothe the girl. “See.” Clarke gives Bellamy a look that says he better not flinch.

Bellamy braces himself, but not well enough. The iodine stings like a _mother_ , and he jerks away. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters _._

The girl growls and smacks Clarke with the light again. Despite the pain, Bellamy chuckles, earning him another death glare.

“Mom, you do it,” Clarke whines, rubbing her sore hand.

“Oh, no. You’re doing fine on your own. I think you’re winning her over.”

Clarke sighs. “I’m going to go check on Miller.


	7. I Think She Likes You

Abby and Bellamy watch Clarke stalk out of the room. They don’t point out that Jackson is already looking at Miller. Abby shakes her head in amusement then turns her attention to Bellamy. The girl shines the light into his eyes, blinding one after the other until all he sees are blobs of white. He blinks faster and faster, making her giggle.

“You’re really good with her.”

“Clarke? Yeah, she’s a tough cookie to crack, but once you get under her skin, it’s easy to annoy her.”

Abby snorts. “I meant the girl.” Bellamy just gives her a goofy grin. “Let me look at your shoulder,” she says after a moment.

The girl seems more agreeable with Abby handling his wound. She sits next to him, swinging her legs and shining the light on everything.

“Did everyone make it back?” Bellamy asks as Abby pricks him with an anesthetic. She’s quiet far too long. “Abby?”

She spends a few more seconds numbing his shoulder before answering. “No. There are still three teams out. They must have gotten caught in the storm and taken cover.”

He glances down at his burned and blistered skin.  _God, I hope so_. He swallows hard before asking, “Which teams?” Eleven went out originally to convince any straggling grounders to seek shelter in Arkadia.

Again, she waits before answering, threading the suture painstakingly slow. Which just puts Bellamy on high alert. Finally, she lets out a soft breath. “Harper and Bryan. Skip and Pendleton weren’t due back until tonight.” She trails off, obviously stalling.

“Abby?”

She takes a deep breath, letting it out in a rush of words. “And Indra and Octavia, but I’m sure they’re fine. They all know how to take care of themselves. They’re survivors.”

Her reassurances do nothing to soften the blow. Bellamy’s breath catches in his throat as his world collapses around him.  _This isn_ _’t happening._ He grips the table in a white-knuckle hold, afraid he might just topple off of it.

Abby gently squeezes his shoulder. “Octavia is smart,” she says softly. “And Indra knows these woods better than anyone. They would have known the storm was coming and found shelter.”

He takes deep breaths and forces his hands to relax. He knows she’s right, but he’s not finding it all that comforting at the moment. No matter how much Octavia hates him, he’ll never stop worrying about her.  _My sister, my responsibility_. It’s been his whole purpose in life.  _If you can_ _’t protect her, what are you good for_? says that voice in the back of his head. He’s beginning to hate that voice.

The little girl must sense his tension. She pulls on his arm until he lets go of the table. Holding up his hand, she presses the light to his fingers, causing them to glow, then looks up expectantly.  _She_ _’s trying to distract me_. He forces a smile on his face until she’s satisfied he’s calmed down. He can’t take his eyes off of the angry welts on her hands.

That familiar swell of anxiety fills him.  _I can_ _’t protect her either. I can’t protect anyone._

“All done,” Abby says, startling him out of his morose thoughts. “Now let me look at the rest of you.”

Bellamy pushes her hands away and stands. “I’m fine.”

She gives him a look only a mother could pull off. He sighs, sitting back down. It’s not worth the fight he knows she’d win anyway. She uses some kind of wipe to go over his arms. It burns a little but nothing compared to the iodine or the rain itself. Then she gets out a really long cotton swab with a little plastic cap, pressing it into a couple of the burns to take samples.

“Am I going to, like, grow two heads or something?”

She laughs. “No, you should be fine. You were only exposed for a few seconds and the burns aren’t deep. Your tolerance to radiation is higher than the grounders. Remember Mt. Weather?”

 _Like I could forget_. He looks down at the girl. “What about her?”

Abby moves over, brushing the hair from her face. “She’ll be okay. She’s strong and her injuries are minor. You did a good job protecting her, Bellamy.” Her expression says not to argue. Bellamy looks away.

Abby repeats the process of cleaning and swabbing the wounds on the girl’s arms and legs where he couldn’t cover her with his jacket. She flinches some, but Bellamy puts a reassuring arm around her and she squares her shoulders—the bravest look he’s ever seen on her face.

“Good girl,” Abby tells her with a broad smile. “If I had a lollipop, I’d give you two.”

As she starts working at her equipment, Bellamy watches the girl flip the light on and off one more time before finally putting it down. When she yawns, he pulls her into his lap where she snuggles against him.

“What are we going to do with her?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” Abby answers, equally quiet. “She was alone?”

“As far as we could tell. We got to her just in time or she would have been cat chow.” He grimaces at the thought. “And if the cat hadn’t gotten her, the rain would have. We didn’t see anyone else.”

“She could have gotten separated from her family in the migration.” Abby comes back and studies the girl. She lifts her face by the chin. “She kind of looks like you.”

Bellamy glances down. The girl’s skin is an olive color under the dirt. She bats long lashes over dark brown eyes as she yawns again. Her black hair is knotted and matted like it hasn’t been brushed or washed in a very long time. The eye color is wrong, but she still reminds him of Octavia when she was little.

“I’ll make up a bed for her in here. We’ll ask around the grounder families to see if anyone will take her in. Her injuries aren’t bad. She’s malnourished and dehydrated, but so are the rest of us. I’ll see if we can put her on the ration schedule tonight.”

“Raven’s going to love that,” Bellamy grumbles. Every time they bring someone new into the Ark, Raven rants about supplies and tightening their belts.  _If there_ _’s one thing we know about, it’s rationing_. As long as he doesn’t have to go back to eating protein paste.

“It’ll be fine,” says Abby. “We’ll supplement with some vitamin drops and-”

“She can have mine,” he blurts.

“What?”

He looks up at Abby, brow furrowed. “My rations. She can have them. Today’s and tomorrow’s. And half for as long as she’s here.”

“Bellamy-”

He slides off the table. “I’ll be fine. I grew up on half-rations. How do you think we fed Octavia for sixteen years? This is no different.”

His speech does little to reassure Abby. She looks at him with watery eyes, and he swears if she cries, he’s walking right out the door and never coming back.

Finally, she sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Still, you need to eat. You can’t give half of your meals to her.”

“I can.”

She sighs. “Bellamy, she’s not your responsibility.”

Something clenches deep in his chest, squeezing a lump into his throat. He swallows it down with more force than should be needed. “I don’t care.” Abby opens her mouth, but he puts a hand up to stop her. “I’m not going to argue. Give her my rations for the day. I’ll eat the next round.”

She shakes her head, obviously knowing she’s lost the fight. Satisfied, Bellamy sets the girl on the table. “I’ll be back to check on you in the morning, okay?”

She just cocks her head as he gingerly pulls on the new shirt Abby set out for him. The material is soft and worn but feels like sandpaper against his raw back.

Then he heads for the door, grabbing his jacket from a chair on his way. He doesn’t even make it into the hall before the shrieking begins. He spins, heart hammering. The girl is standing on the edge of the table, arms stretched out. Abby’s trying to calm her down, but she just stomps her feet and screams.

Clarke and Jackson run in from the other room, concern on their faces. “What’s wrong with her?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy hurries across the room. He’s two steps from the table when the girl launches herself into his arms, wrapping him tight in her little grip. He smooths down her hair and rubs those soothing circles on her back. Her wails subside into hiccuping sobs then slow to a whimper. She pops her thumb into her mouth while her other hand twists in the hair at the nape of his neck.  _Finally_.

“Wow,” Jackson says.

Abby just smiles. “I think she likes you, Bellamy.”


	8. Baby Whisperer

Bellamy glares at Abby. “You don’t say.” He turns his attention to the little girl, tucking her hair behind an ear so he can see her face. Her eyes flash up to his. “It’s okay. Abby’s going to take good care of you. She’s got a bed and some food. It’ll be nice.”

She can’t understand the words, but he thinks she gets the meaning because her grip tightens and her lower lip starts to quiver around her thumb. Prying her fingers loose from his neck, he sits her on the table. She reaches for him, but he gathers her hands in her lap and squats down in front of her.

“You’ll be safe here. Abby and Jackson and Clarke are my friends. They won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. I need to go to work, okay?”

Tears well up, threatening to break Bellamy’s heart. He sighs softly. _This isn’t going to work_.

“Here,” Clarke says, “let me try.” She gets as close as she dares then bends down to see the girl’s face, her smile comforting. She starts speaking in Grounder. Bellamy only catches every other word, and they don’t make much sense strung together.

The girl understands, though. She cracks—the tears she fought for so long spilling down her face. Crap. He looks helplessly at the others. “What do I do?”

“I’ve got an extra bed.” Abby nods over her shoulder at the curtained area. “You look like you could use some rest anyway.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be serious?”

Clarke squeezes his shoulder. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

From the other side of the room, Miller snorts. Bellamy hadn’t even noticed him leaning against the wall, now fully dressed. He’s got this amused little smirk on his face.

“You’re just happy you get the room to yourself.”

Miller laughs.

“Don’t you have some reports to fill out or something,” Bellamy grumbles.

Abby taps Miller’s arm. “I could use your help, Nathan.” His face falls as he follows Abby out of the room. Jackson wanders over to the equipment to check the results of their tests, leaving him alone with Clarke.

She offers him an awkward smile. “So.”

“So,” he repeats. He stands up, knees popping. He feels way too old for twenty-three. The girl practically crawls up his body until she can twist the fingers of one hand into his hair again. Her other thumb ends up in her mouth. She lets out a contented sigh that mirrors the one caught in Bellamy’s throat. He wraps his jacket around her and rests his chin on top of her head while they lean against the table.

“You really are good with her.”

He shrugs. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I guess I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“I meant after that?”

“I know what you meant.” He glances down at the peaceful smile on the girl’s face. “She just needs time to adjust. Once she gets to know everyone, she won’t be scared anymore.” _Who are you trying to convince? Her or yourself_?

Clarke nods, but he has a feeling she sees right through his feigned indifference. He keeps his eyes focused on a spot across the room so he doesn’t have to look at her. He still feels Clarke’s gaze burning a hole through him. He resists the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. _Why won’t she look away_?

_Because she knows, dumbass, says the voice. She knows you’re getting attached._

_I’m not getting attached._

_You’re also in denial._

_I’m not._ He pinches the bridge of his nose—tension building between his eyes. _Great. Now I’m arguing with myself._

_That should probably tell you something._

He officially hates that little voice.

“She’s cute,” Clarke says, breaking into his thoughts. “She looks like you.”

 _Not this again_. Bellamy hunches his shoulders. “I guess.”

Clarke laughs. “You act like that’s a bad thing.”

“With a face like his,” Miller says, returning with a pile of linens, “I feel sorry for the girl. She’s going to be alone the rest of her life.”

“Shut up.” He tries to kick Miller as he passes, but only manages to jostle the girl awake. Her head pops up, eyes searching for danger. Bellamy pushes it back against his shoulder and shoots Miller a glare. “She doesn’t look like me, and she’ll be fine. We’ll find her a family, and she won’t even remember any of this. That’s the beauty of little kids--you can screw up all you want because they don’t remember.”

“If you say so. You’re like the baby whisperer or something. I’ll defer to your extensive experience and knowledge.”

“Whatever,” Bellamy mumbles, hiding his grin behind the girl’s head.

The three of them fall into an awkward silence. So much has happened in the nine months since Mt. Weather. He wonders if they’ll ever recover. Things are better between him and Clarke since she came back—the anger subsided to a dull resentment he works hard to forget.

But Miller. Things haven’t been the same since Pike. Sure, they act like nothing has changed, but there’s no denying the tension bubbling just below the surface. It’s like that with most of his friends. Jasper’s bitterness extends to just about everybody, but Harper leaves the room whenever he’s around, and Raven doesn’t hide her disappointment as well as she thinks she does. Monty is the only one that can stand to be around him, and that’s because he’s filled with the same shame and regret.

It’s different with Miller, though. Pike placed a wedge between Miller and Bryan. And Bellamy hammered it in deep with his spying attempts. When their relationship imploded, Bellamy blamed himself. He’s pretty sure Miller does, too, even if he’s never said so. There might not be a bridge long enough to span the distance between them. But Bellamy doesn’t know how to fix it. He still keeps trying.

He clears his throat, getting Miller’s attention. “You okay?”

Miller rubs a hand over the back of his neck with a pained grimace then shrugs. “I’ll live.”

“I mean about Bryan. He’s not back yet.”

“I heard.” He stares at his boots, obviously struggling to maintain control of his emotions.

Bellamy’s not sure what else to say. _Are there even words for “sorry your ex-boyfriend might be dead and it’s my fault you weren’t with him?”_ He glances at Clarke for help.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she says softly. “He was with Harper in the north woods. The storm went south. It probably missed them. And there are a lot of little villages and caves around there—plenty of places to take cover.”

“Yeah.” Miller doesn’t look at all convinced. Bellamy understands. He’s trying really hard not to think about Octavia being out in that rain. He shudders, waking the girl again. She mumbles something in Grounder. It’s the first time she’s spoken.

“What’d she say?” asks Miller.

Clarke lets out a sad sigh. “She wants her father.”

“Oh.”


	9. In Too Deep

The mood kind of crashes after that.

Miller coughs. “On that note.” He looks like he wants to say more but just turns and leaves.

Bellamy and Clarke lean against the table, shoulders brushing. He fingers one of the holes in his jacket. There are a lot of them. “Lucky my mom was a seamstress, huh?” he says, hoping to break the tension.

Clarke smiles sadly. It’s clear her mind is somewhere else. Bellamy takes the opportunity to watch her unabashed.

Her hair is pulled back away from her face the way she used to wear it, flooding Bellamy with a pleasant string of memories. But there are dark circles under her eyes like just about everyone in Arkadia. The haunted look on her face breaks his heart. He hates seeing her hurting like this. Especially since it’s something that can’t be fought with a gun. Something he can’t fix.

“Penny for your thoughts, princess?”

She startles—her hand going to a pendant around her neck that he’s never seen before. “What?”

He smiles. “I was just wondering what you were thinking about. You’re awfully quiet.”

“Just tired, I guess. It’s like one catastrophe after another around here.” She glances at the girl as if to prove her point. “I don’t seem to get any rest.”

 _Tell me about it_. “What did I miss while I was gone?”

“You want the long version or the short?”

“Better go with the short or we’ll be here all night.”

She laughs at that, relaxing some. “Five of the teams brought back refugees. Twelve of them, including seven children. Some of them are already sick, but the grounders won’t let my mom look at them. The ability to feed and produce enough water for everyone is a concern.”

“In other words, Raven’s on the rampage.”

“To put it lightly.” She fiddles absently with her necklace again, eyes distant. “Security is turning into a headache, too.”

“The grounders barely trusted us before, and now they’re forced to live with us,” he says, guessing the issue. “On our turf.”

Clarke nods. “Tensions are running high already, and we haven’t even closed the doors yet. There was a fight yesterday between a couple of Trikru and some people from Farm Station.”

The pain between Bellamy’s eyes grows. “How bad was it?”

“Kane got there before it became a full-blown riot. We had to separate them in lockup so they wouldn’t kill each other, though, and now we have to figure out what to do with them that satisfies both group’s idea of justice. It’s not going to be easy.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says with a sigh, “but things are only going to get worse. It’ll be a damn miracle if we even make it a year.”

Clarke snorts. “That’s incredibly optimistic of you.” Her hand goes back to the necklace. Bellamy’s not sure she realizes she’s even doing it.

He tilts his head to get a better look. “That’s pretty. Did your mom give it to you?”

Clarke drops her hands to her sides. “No,” she mumbles. “It’s nothing. Just something someone gave me. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay,” he drawls, eyebrows shooting up.  _Based on the amount of defensiveness, I_ _’m going to guess Lexa._  After everything they’ve been through, Lexa is the one topic Clarke won’t broach with him. It’s only been four months, he reminds himself.  _She_ _’ll talk about it when she’s ready_. So he keeps his mouth shut, and thankfully, Clarke changes the subject.

“I should go. I’m supposed to meet with Kane and Jaha in a little bit,” she says, pushing off from the table with a small smile. “You look tired and-” She gestures at the girl drooling on his clean shirt.

Bellamy doesn’t want her to leave—not with the storm of emotions between them right now—but he doesn’t ask her to stay. That’s how most of their conversations end lately—things get uncomfortable and Clarke walks away. He really doesn’t want to get into an argument with her right now so he forces the disappointment from his voice. “Yeah, It’s been a long day.”

“It’s nine in the morning.”

“Exactly.”

Clarke laughs. And just like that, the tension drains from the room. She walks over to the bed and makes it up for him. Bellamy lies down, adjusting the girl on his chest. She squirms a little but doesn’t wake up.

“You going to be okay?” Clarke asks.

He glances down at the girl then back up at Clarke. “Yeah, I got this. Go take care of business, Clarke, before this place falls down around us. And I mean that with the utmost respect. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

She ducks her head as pink rushes into her cheeks. When she pats his arm, her hand lingers on his bicep longer than usual. He tries to ignore the warmth that radiates out from the spot. “Get some sleep, Bellamy,” she whispers. “You deserve it. I’ll check back later.”

The thought leaves a fluttery feeling in his stomach. You’d think he’d be accustomed to it by now, but it leaves him confused and flustered every time. And wanting more. He groans.  _This is ridiculous_ _—I_ _’m too old for butterflies and crushes_. But it’s getting harder and harder for him to deny the way his pulse speeds up whenever Clarke gives him that shy smile or the way his head spins when she hugs him.

He swallows hard. “I am so screwed.”

Just then, the doors to the Medbay whoosh open, startling the girl awake. Raven storms in, ready for a fight.

“Abby, what is this message? Another ration request? I told you we don’t have the supplies. I know you and Clarke want to save everyone, but we just can’t. We-” Her voice trails off when she notices the crying. “-need to think about saving the people already here,” she finishes, flatly.

“You scared her,” Bellamy says, trying to quiet the girl.

“Oh.” Raven moves a little closer but keeps her distance as if the girl might carry the plague. “Uh, sorry?”

She looks like she wants to say more, but Abby appears out of nowhere. “What’s going on? I heard crying.”

Bellamy shifts the girl higher until she can reach the hair at the back of his neck. That seems to do the trick. “Raven’s here to discuss our supply situation.”

“This is who you need the rations for?”

Abby crosses her arms and nods. “You’ll need to do your magic and allocate her some rations or I’m afraid Bellamy will starve to death. He’s already offered up today and tomorrow’s.”

Bellamy flushes. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done it before.”

“This is different, Bellamy. We’re already on half-rations. Half of half isn’t a sustainable diet.”

There’s an edge of desperation to her words, but he won’t give in. “I don’t care.”

“Bellamy-” They stare each other down for several tense moments before Abby throws up her hands.  _Ha_.

“Abby,” Raven says, jerking her head to the side, “can I talk to you?”

Bellamy tries to ignore their hushed argument from across the room. Nothing about this situation is ideal. He knows the odds are against them. Against him. It would be a lot easier to just hand the girl off to the nearest grounder and be done with her, but the thought makes him sick. He wants better for her. Needs better. _I need to know she_ _’ll be safe._

The little girl stirs, exhaling a warm puff of air against his neck. Bellamy brushes his lips across the top of her head, leaving a soft kiss. He can feel the tiny tears in his soul mending. Fragments of his heart fitting back together. He hasn’t felt this whole in a very long time, and it frightens him.  _There is no way this ends well for me_ _—I_ _’m in way too deep._

Tears prick the corners of his eyes. For some reason, he really misses his mom right now.  _She_ _’d know what to do_. He closes his eyes, squeezing back the tears. When that doesn’t work, he throws an arm over his face, hoping no one will notice.

He must drift off to sleep because the next time he opens his eyes, there’s a soft blanket covering the both of them and two plastic-wrapped rations on the bedside table.


	10. Can We Keep Her?

Bellamy's not sure how long they've slept before he's jolted awake by shouting in the hall. The little girl squeaks in surprise when he jerks straight up, nearly dropping her. She twists her hands into his shirt and starts crying. For a second, he thinks he might have dreamed it, but then the doors fly open.

Abby's the first one in the room. "Over there on the table. Jackson, get the-"

Bellamy immediately tunes out the medical mumbo-jumbo as more people follow in a flurry of activity. Bryan and another guard carry someone by their arms and legs. They grunt as they lift him onto the table. It takes Bellamy a moment to recognize Pendleton. He wishes he could unsee what he saw because the person on the table barely looks human.

Huge sores cover Pendleton’s face and hands, and most of his hair has torn away, taking some of his scalp with it. His head flops to the side—sunken eyes staring blankly through Bellamy. The only sign the man is alive is his lips silently mouthing, “kill me.”

Jackson starts cutting away Pendleton’s clothes, grimacing when skin peels away with the man's jacket. Bellamy shudders, pushing the girls head against his chest when she tries to look.

"Oh, god," says Harper, looking like she might vomit.

Bryan just stares, obviously in shock.

Jackson puts his body between Bryan and Pendleton. "What happened?" he asks in that firm, detached way doctors have.

"I-" Bryan swallows hard. "I don't know. We found them just inside the gate."

"Them?"

"Him and Skip."

Abby stops in the middle of filling a syringe, exchanging a look with Jackson. "Where's-"

Harper cuts her off. "He didn't make it."

"We were almost home when the storm seemed to come out of nowhere,” adds Bryan, his voice strained. ”We managed to make it to the dropship.”

“Barely." Harper continues, holding up her burned hands for emphasis. "We waited out the storm then high-tailed it back here. They were-" She motions lamely towards Pendleton, unable to describe the horror.

Bryan jams a hand through his hair and finishes for her. "I guess they thought they could make it back."

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. He feels sick. That could have been him and Miller.  _And Octavia is still out there_. He pushes the thought away just as quickly as it pops into his head, but it’s immediately replaced by another.

_That could have been the girl._ That realization drives him to action. He tucks the girl’s hair behind her ear so he can see her face. Her thumb is in her mouth again, but she's wide awake—eyes darting everywhere until they land on his. He forces a smile on his face then wipes the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispers. She tightens her grip on his shirt so he scoots her higher until he feels her little fingers tangling in his hair. Her soft sigh is such a relief, he doesn’t even care when she pulls one of the curls too hard.

Abby finally notices them standing in the corner. “You don’t need to be in here.” She cocks her head towards the door—her meaning clear.

Bellamy grabs his jacket, wrapping it around the girl then pockets the rations. He’s almost to the door when Miller bursts into the room.

"Bryan? Bryan!"

Harper barely has time to jump out of the way before Miller nearly tackles Bryan in a bear hug. "Are you okay? They said someone was caught in the rain. I-" His voice cracks.

Bellamy has never seen Miller cry before, but he breaks down right in front of everyone. Bryan returns the embrace, murmuring in Miller’s ear. Everyone looks away, giving them what tiny bit of privacy they can get.

Harper stands nearby, arms wrapped protectively around her body. Tears stain her pale face. Bellamy puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the carnage. She starts at his touch then collapses against him, her whole body trembling.

“Come on,” he says against the top of her head, “let’s get out of here.”

Harper offers no resistance as he maneuvers her out of Medbay. The air is cooler in the hall. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It had taken him days to get used to the rich, loamy scent of the earth after breathing the stale, recirculated air on the Ark his entire life. He doesn’t think he'll ever get used to it again. Five years is going to feel like an eternity.

He leads Harper to the nearby Guard office—thankfully, the room is empty. Harper sinks into the couch, face in her hands. Bellamy grabs a medkit and sits next to her.

“Let me see your hands.”

It’s several seconds before she lifts her head and sniffs. “I was trying to protect my face,” she says softly. “The storm came out of nowhere.”

“I know,” Bellamy tells her. He convinces the girl to sit next to him then rests Harper’s hands on his lap. “We almost didn’t make it back either. We were probably only a few minutes ahead of Skip and Pendleton.”

_They shut the door after we got inside_. The thought crushes him. They never had a chance. Even if they’d made it to Alpha Station, they wouldn’t have been able to get inside. Y _ou killed them_ , says the damned voice.  _Two more names to add to the list_. Bellamy shakes the thought away and focuses on Harper.

He searches through the kit and finds a small bag of foil-wrapped wipes. He reads the label:  _for use on minor radiation burns only_. These must have been what Abby used on his arms.

Harper’s teeth chatter loudly as he cleans one hand then the other. By the time he’s done bandaging them, she’s shivering uncontrollably. Her eyes are red and distant.

“Harper, you still with me?” he asks, catching her attention with a wave in front of her face.

She blinks at him. “I’m so cold.”

Bellamy grabs his jacket and wraps it around her. “You’re in shock. It’ll pass.”

Harper buries her face in his shoulder, sobbing again. The little girl has been quiet the whole time. Now she climbs into Bellamy’s lap. He holds them both close.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Bellamy says, resting his cheek on the top of Harper’s head. “We’re going to get through this.”

“How?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

_I don_ _’t know_. “Together. Like we always do. We made it through the crash landing, grounders, and the battle at the dropship. We got out of Mt. Weather and survived ALIE. We can do this, too.” He’s not sure if he’s trying to convince her or himself. “This is a cake walk after all that. Five years of sitting around, doing nothing. No running for our lives, and-”

“No one trying to kill us,” Harper adds with a dry laugh.

“And no one trying to kill us,” he repeats, letting his head drop back against the sofa. “See? Cake.”

Eventually, Harper sits up and wipes her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She sniffles a few times while she watches the little girl suck her thumb in her sleep. A smile spreads across her face. “Aw, look at you—that’s so cute with the cuddling and sweetness.”

“Whatever,” Bellamy grumbles, getting him a skeptical look from Harper.  _What is it with the women in my life seeing right through me_?

“She’s adorable. Can we keep her?”

_Don_ _’t even think about_ , says the voice.

Bellamy ignores the voice and Harper’s comment. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah. I think I’m going to go back to my quarters and sleep for a few decades.”

“You need me to walk you?”

She shakes her head. She’s a little wobbly when she stands but stays on her feet. “I’m good.” She looks away for a second then back at him. “Thank you, Bellamy. For-” She gestures at the sofa. “I think I got snot on your shirt.”

He snorts. “Wouldn’t be the first time today.” They both look down at the girl who makes snuffling noises in her sleep.

“You know,” Harper says, tilting her head. “She kind of looks like you.”

Bellamy groans. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”


	11. Good Luck With That

Bellamy stares at the ceiling for a long time, still trying to convince himself that what he told Harper was true.  _Hasn_ _’t Clarke been telling me that for months now? And Clarke is usually right_. He wants desperately to believe it, but he has a feeling that even if they can physically survive five years locked up—and he kind of doubts it—they’ll lose their minds long before they can open the doors.

He rubs at the throbbing spot between his eyes.  _This isn_ _’t going to end well_. The fighting has already started, and the doors aren’t even shut yet. Lockup will be full in a month at that rate. He doesn’t want to think of what the next step will be. How do you keep five hundred people in line?

 _You sacrifice the ones that step out of it_.

He squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden image of his mother being tossed into space. The flames of guilt and anger ignite in his chest. He doesn’t want to remember her like that. He doesn’t want to remember that Kane pushed the button like it was just another day.

 _But it was just another day_ , says the voice.  _And it_ _’ll be just another day for you, too, when things get bad_.

_No it won_ _’t. I could never-_

The voice cuts him off.  _You will when it comes down to the safety of your friends and family. If the actions of the few jeopardize the safety of the ones you love, you_ _’ll push that button same as Kane_.

Bellamy doesn’t want to believe that, but when the little girl snorts in her sleep, snuggling closer, he knows it’s true. He would do anything to protect his family. Her.

Feeling sick, he gently slides the girl from his lap onto the sofa. He tucks his jacket around her then stretches. He winces when the movement pulls at his stitches.

He picks up the remnants of the med kit and puts it back, making a mental note to restock it. Then he grabs a tablet from the desk, tapping in his ID code.  _Might as well get some work done_. He's tired of having to explain what happened a million times. Now when Kane asks him, he'll just tell him to read the report.

He’s nearly done when the girl starts whimpering in her sleep, her body curled into a tight ball. Bellamy waits to see if she settles, but she bolts upright in a terrified scream. His heart lurches at the anguish. She reaches her arms to him, hands opening and closing. Bellamy scoops her up and presses soft kisses to her forehead until she calms down again.

He tries not to imagine what she’s been through because it makes him sick. Instead, he leans back to accommodate the sleeping child. Eventually, she gets lax against his chest, her arms dangling on either side of him.

He must have dozed off again because he wakes to the lights flipping on. "Shit," someone says.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks, rubbing his eyes against the brightness as two older guards look nervously back and forth.

"Shift change," the one says.

“Sorry,” says the other with a shrug. "We didn't know anyone was in here."

Bellamy nods. “No, it’s fine.” They watch him with matching looks of curiosity as he gathers up the girl but don’t say anything else.

The girl yawns and stretches causing him to nearly drop her. His back and arms ache so he stiffly sets her on her feet. "I think you're big enough to walk. Don't you?"

She just stares at him with those big doe-like eyes. He takes her hand and leads her towards the mess hall. There won't be any food there this time of day, but he’s hoping they can find a quiet corner to sit.

Thankfully, the mess is relatively empty. He sets the girl at one of the tables then pulls the rations from his pocket, showing her. She cocks her head, twisting the sealed packet in her hand. Then she stuffs it in her mouth, gnawing on it. Bellamy laughs, taking it back. "No, like this." He peels apart the plastic wrap and hands it back.

She sniffs it a couple times then takes a tentative lick. She smiles up at him then bites off the corner. He pats her head with a smile. "Lucky you. You got the dried fruit. I get the dried unidentifiable, tasteless meat." He chews on the end of the tough jerky, staring into space—his brain too tired to process more thoughts. He has no idea how much time has passed before someone drops into the seat across from him. Murphy.

Bellamy frowns at him. "What do you want?"

Murphy snorts. "I thought they were joking when they said you had a kid. Where'd you get her?"

"Go away."

"She looks like you. What aren't you telling us, Bellamy?" he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Bellamy sighs. "I really don't want to hurt you in front of the girl."

Murphy laughs. "Good, then she's my new best friend. Huh, kid? You'll protect me from the big mean Bellamy, won't you?" He reaches over and tries to snag the last of her ration. Her little fist comes down hard on his hand, crunching bone.

Murphy yelps, pulling it back. The girl glares at him, nose scrunched. Bellamy tries not to laugh.

"I see you're making friends as usual, Murphy," Jasper says, sliding into the chair next to him. His words slur slightly. "Who's this? A new princess?"

Murphy gets up with a huff. "Fits. She's as mean as the last one." He storms off, but Bellamy catches the little grin on his face. The girl seems to have that effect on everyone.

Jasper leans back, stretching his long arms above his head. "Heard Miller and Bryan made up."

Bellamy shrugs. "I guess."

"Thank god. I could not take the scandalizing stares and irritability. I swear, Miller's worse than a chick."

Next to him, the little girl gets on her knees, bouncing up and down. She's more awake and alert, and it lifts a heaviness that had settled over Bellamy. She starts to pull apart her dried fruit, making a little pile that she squishes into the table. Jasper watches her, head cocked to the side.

"You know," he says, leaning close. "If you're not going to eat that-" He reaches for the food, but she scoops up all of the pieces, shoving them into her mouth at once. Jasper snaps his fingers. "Damn. You're just too fast for me."

Bellamy chuckles then slides the rest of his ration over to her. The meat is a lot tougher, but she gnaws away at it. He can't imagine she's eaten much over the last few days. Maybe weeks. Again he wonders where her family is.

 _You know the answer to that_.

 _She could have just gotten separated in the confusion_.

The voice laughs at him.

Bellamy rubs his eyes and tries to pay attention to Jasper's drunken ramblings. He knows Jasper is still hurting, and he really wants to help him, but he’s tired of listening to it.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it,” Jasper says.

“What?”

“The party. How does that sound for a theme? It’s from an old song—I found it on Maya’s iPod.”

“Party?” Bellamy tries to shake the cobwebs from his head, but everything still feels muted.

Jasper sighs. “Never mind.”

The girl gets on her feet, doing a little dance. The fidgeting feels like a sledgehammer hitting him in the head. "Okay," he says, a little harsher than he intended. She startles and looks up at him with glossy eyes. Bellamy sighs. "It's time to sit down, okay."

She shifts from foot to foot, brow furrowed. He should probably find a grounder to translate, but the thought turns his stomach. Because once the grounders know she's here, they'll take her into their little enclave.  _But that's good, right_?  _That's where she belongs. With her people_. She starts dancing again.

"Uh, Bellamy," Jasper says.

"What?"

"I think she needs to go."

Bellamy frowns. "Go where?"

Jasper rolls his eyes. "Go. To the bathroom."

"Oh. Right." He jumps up, shoving the ration into his pocket before Jasper can snatch it. "Come on, let's find a bathroom." He lifts her down from the chair then pauses. "God, I hope she knows how to use a toilet."

Jasper laughs. "Good luck with that, man."


	12. Best View in the Station

Thankfully, the girl figures out the toilet pretty quick. Flushing is another thing, though. She practically climbs up his entire body to get away from the noise.

“It’s okay,” he tells her softly, rubbing her back. Her grip tightens around his neck, but she doesn’t cry. Her stillness worries him. This all has to be pretty traumatic for her. So many new experiences—pain and confusion. It has to be overwhelming. He shifts her into a more comfortable position. “Let’s go for a walk, huh?”

She lays her head on his shoulder and plays with his hair while they walk the mostly empty halls. The few people they encounter give him curious looks but don’t say anything. Most likely they’ve already heard the story like Murphy did. It’s a small station—word spreads fast.

Bellamy’s not sure where to take her, though. He’s tired of sitting in Medbay, and Miller and Bryan have practically taken over his quarters. The common areas will just bring more unwanted attention, and the guard office will be a lot busier now that the shifts are changing.

So, they wander aimlessly, taking random turns until they end up in a less used area. Bellamy takes a left at the next junction and finds himself at an internal airlock used to separate sections of the station in case of a hull breach.

He taps the keypad with his ID code, unlocking the door. This section of the station is mostly off limits. It landed at an odd angle, leaving the floor tilted and the walls buckled in places. Raven insists it’s not dangerous, but they keep people away just in case. Bellamy sneaks off here to get some peace and quiet.

“I think you’ll like this,” he tells her. “Best view in the station.”

Bellamy winds through the debris and crates of stored items that have collected over the last six months until they come to the small cleared space. He sets the girl down then sits against one of the crates. She looks around, taking it all in.

“Look up,” he says, pointing to the ceiling.

A smile breaks across her face as she follows his finger. Above them, a circular window looks out at the stars twinkling far above. The room used to be some kind of observation gallery but was mostly used for conferences and council meetings in the past.

The little girl starts twirling, face turned to the stars. It is pretty magical this late at night when the room’s lights are dim and the sky is black. Bellamy smiles as he watches her dance, hair flying around her face. She falls, giggling, to the floor. When she tries to get up, she does a fair impression of Jasper after a little too much moonshine. He chuckles.

She reminds him so much of Octavia it physically hurts. He rubs at the ache in his chest. How many times had he wished he could show her the stars when they were growing up in their windowless quarters. He wanted to give her everything but managed only to take away her entire life. He lets out a long sigh that gets the girl’s attention.

She toddles over, still a little wobbly, and stops in front of him. She tilts her head to one side then the other like she’s trying to figure him out. Bellamy mimics the action. Her head flops to the other side and he copies her. She frowns so he frowns.

It takes her a few seconds to understand the game then she experiments with other facial expressions— smiles, smirks, sticking out her tongue, crossing her eyes. Bellamy copies each one, trying not to laugh.

After a minute, the girl tries a new tactic. She starts dancing around again then grabs his hand, trying to pull him to his feet.

“No,” he says, “I don’t want to dance.”

She’s not deterred and continues to yank on his arm. He lets her struggle for another minute before reluctantly getting to his feet. She immediately drops down, giving him a devilish grin.

“You little snot.” He scoops her up, throwing her a foot into the air above his head. She squeals in delight so he does it again. The sounds of her laughter scatter the dark thoughts. At least for awhile. He holds her close and spins until they both feel sick before collapsing on the floor in a heap, laughing.

The girl snuggles against his side while Bellamy tries to catch his breath. It doesn’t take long for the darkness to fill in the empty spaces again. Almost as if she can sense his mood, the girl starts babbling in Grounder as she stares at the night sky. And just like that, a warm glow pushes back the gloom, filling him with a glimmer of hope for the future.

This is why he keeps fighting. Not for himself or the human race. Not even for Octavia anymore. He fights so that the girl will have a tomorrow to wake up to.  _Hopefully, one not filled with suffering and despair_. In that moment, he knows he’d do everything in his power to give her that future. Even if it means he doesn’t get the chance to live in it.

She girl pops her thumb in her mouth and mumbles some more. Her other hand waves in the air. He realizes she’s drawing pictures with the stars— a galactic dot-to-dot. Bellamy remembers this from science class although the stars look a lot different from down here.

He reaches up and draws his own shape. “Look, that’s the Big Dipper,” he tells her. “See how it looks like a spoon? And that’s Draco the dragon. And those three dots are Orion’s belt.”

She follows his finger as he points out the constellations, telling her the stories from the mythology book his mother read them as children. She doesn’t understand any of it, but the sound of his voice seems to lull her back to sleep. Bellamy’s eyelids grow heavy, too. He feels like all he’s done is sleep the last two days, and yet, he never feels rested.

He tries to pretend it has nothing to do with the growing anxiety he feels when he looks at the girl or thinks about how trapped he already feels.  _I 'm not going to make it five years. I’ll be lucky to make it one. That is if the grounders don’t kill me before I lose my sanity._

Across the room, the doors suddenly whoosh opening, startling him from his morbid thoughts. Shouts and laughter wake the girl. She sits up, rubbing her eyes. Bellamy is instantly on high alert, hugging her closer, but he relaxes when a familiar group of kids rounds the corner— Jasper in the lead.

They freeze when they see Bellamy. “Uh,” Harper says, looking sheepish. “Hey.”

“Bellamy,” Jasper shouts. “You decided to come after all. It’s the end of the world and you know it!”

Bellamy squeezes the bridge of his nose. Looks like Jasper started partying hours ago. Not that he’s surprised. The other kids look around nervously. He recognizes most of them from the dropship, but they look unsure of his reaction while he’s wearing his guard uniform.

He gets to his feet, back protesting the movement. He honestly doesn’t care what they do. It really is the end of the world so why not enjoy themselves? Part of him wishes he could join them— to let loose like that— but another part squashes that thought immediately.

 _No rest for the wicked_ , says the voice. For once Bellamy agrees with it.

The kids part like the Red Sea as he picks up the girl and leaves.

“Wait,” Jasper calls after him, “you’re not staying?”

Bellamy ignores him, leaving the group to their fun.


	13. I Have an Idea

Before Bellamy can make it to the door, the dome above flashes a brilliant white as lightning slashes the night sky. The ground rumbles with distant thunder and the lights flicker. Several kids yelp in surprise. The lights go out completely with the next burst of lightning. Bellamy counts the seconds until the thunder booms—four and a half.

The lights blink back on a moment later but continue to fluctuate madly in a strobe-like effect that sends Jasper into a song. Another strike sets the rest of the kids cheering. The party is on.

Bellamy counts to three this time before the thunder shudders the entire station. The storms are moving faster now. And coming closer together. It won’t be long before going outside won’t be an option. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

_Not going to last a year._

The girl squeezes his neck as the lightning intensifies, her fingers curling in his hair. He pats her back and darts out the door, hoping the quiet of the hall will calm her.

Without windows, the only sign of the storm is the occasional tremor of the station. And the flickering lights which can’t seem to decide if they want to be on or off. Sometimes they stay off for seconds at a time before reluctantly coming back to life.

Bellamy knows he should probably go find Raven and find out what’s going on, but he veers in the opposite direction from Engineering instead. It must be late because the halls are nearly empty—the few people he passes give him a wide berth.

With nowhere else to go in the confines of the station, Bellamy ends up back at the empty Medbay. The nurse—a young woman he remembers from school—smiles at him when he enters. Then ducks her head as if embarrassed.

 _She's flirting, dumbass_.

Bellamy hurries past at that thought. He has way too much going on to think about relationships.

 _At least with random girls_ , says the voice. _But one particular girl-_

 _Shut up_.

The voice just laughs.

He finds Abby in her office, staring into space. She starts when he pokes his head in then smiles at the girl who eagerly goes to the doctor. Bellamy sighs in relief as he drops into an empty chair.

“How are you doing?” Abby asks with that motherly tone.

Bellamy shrugs. Like there’s an answer to that question she’d accept. He fiddles with one of the holes in his pants to avoid looking at her.

“Kane radioed,” she says after a moment. “He was trying to beat the storm back to Arkadia, but it overtook them about twenty miles out.”

“They’ve been moving a lot faster. We’re going to have to shut the doors soon.” _Before more people get stranded out there. Before there are no more chances to make it back just in the nick time._

The little girl plays with the necklace around Abby’s neck, letting the ring slide on and off her fingers.

Abby pulls her hair away from her face and gently turns it back and forth, checking her out. Then she takes the girl’s hands. “These wounds are almost healed.”

“Lucky her.” Bellamy rubs one especially annoying burn on the back of his hand.

Abby takes the ring, slipping it under her shirt and gets up, the girl on her hip. “Come on; I have an idea.”

Bellamy reluctantly follows her out of Medbay and down the hall to her quarters. The place is a lot larger than his, and he’s had to share with Miller and Bryan ever since they brought on the extra Grounders. It’s cozy, though. Lived in. Like a real home.

A framed photo on the wall catches his eye. It’s hard to mistake the two young kids as anyone other than Clarke and Wells. They look about six years old with their gap-toothed smiles.

“Were these your quarters in orbit?”

She nods. “Lucky me, huh?” She looks over at a picture of Clarke’s dad. “I get to have all of my memories.”

The distant look in her eyes makes him wonder if they haunt her as much as they haunt him.

Abby sets the girl down next to a shallow tub in the middle of the room. “I asked around and found some clothes for your little shadow. I thought we might all enjoy her having a bath. It took some convincing, but I finally got Raven to approve some extra soap. I figure we wash her first then tackle her hair.”

“I doubt there’s enough soap in this station to clean her hair,” he says with a snort.

Bellamy strips the girl of her filthy clothes while Abby transfers water from the sink to the tub. The girl shoots it suspicious looks that make him smile.

“Oh, come on,” Bellamy says. “It won’t be that bad. It’s just water. See.” He reaches in and splashes a little. The girl leans over the side with a frown then carefully tests the water. “Told you-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. The girl slams her hand into the water, splashing his face. He blinks at her impish grin, water dripping from his nose. Abby covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Cute,” he mutters.

Abby situates her in the water and chatters away at her about Clarke as a baby while also explaining every step. He figures she picked up the habit on the job. Every doctor seems to do it. Maybe it calms patients. It sure seems to work on the girl—she sits in the tub without complaint, letting Abby soap her up. The lather turns gray with grime before she gets to the legs.

She giggles when Abby cleans her feet. “Oh, you’re ticklish, huh?” She tickles the other foot. The girl pulls it away. They go back and forth like that for a bit. “Clarke was ticklish on her feet, too.”

Bellamy smiles, filing that little bit of trivia away for later.

“Well,” Abby says after a few minutes of struggling with her tangled hair. “I think that’s about all we can do now. The water’s too dirty to get anything more clean.”

They leave her splashing for a couple minutes while they clean up.

“Thank you,” Bellamy tells her softly. The words feel so inadequate for everything Abby has done for him.

“You’re doing a good job, Bellamy,” she says, squeezing his arm. “Look at her. She’s been through so much, but she’s over there splashing and laughing. That’s all you.”

He doesn’t believe her. “What’s going to happen to her?” he finally asks, not sure he wants to know the answer.

Abby doesn’t answer right away, and she doesn’t look at Bellamy. “The Grounders will find someone that will take her in. Someone with children her age to help her adjust.”

He knows that’s the right thing to do. She should be with her people. Then why does letting her go feel like a part of his heart is being torn away? He takes the towel Abby offers and lifts the girl from the tub, bundling her up tight.

She giggles and bounces in his arm, water dripping from her hair onto his shirt. “Hey, you’re getting me all wet.”

She apparently gets what he’s saying because she starts shaking her head. Water sprays everywhere, damp hair smacking his face. He laughs. “Okay. Time to get you dried and dressed.”

He carefully dries her off then squeezes the water from her hair. She shivers in the cool air. “Here,” he tells her, holding out a pair tiny underwear that must have been sewn from old pajama bottoms based on the flying pig design. It’s something his mom would have done. He gets a wistful look on his face for a moment before shaking away the thought.

Next is a little shirt with a tear along the neck. He pulls the band off from around the top, not wanting her to strangle herself. Then there’s a little dress that reminds him so much of the one Octavia had that he has to stop and remind himself that this isn’t O.

He buttons up the front of the dress. It’s gray pinstripe—probably from a man’s dress shirt. It comes past her knees, but she’ll grow into it.

He sits her down next to him and pulls on the long, knee-length socks which immediately slip down to her ankles. She keeps trying to pull them up but they slide down, her legs still too small. Her shoes are at the bottom of the pile, slightly cleaner than before. He ties them on then looks her up and down.

“Not bad. You clean up pretty nice.” He cocks his head. “Now for the hair.” The girl stands between his legs, and he methodically works the tangles out with the comb Abby left.

He doesn’t get them all before she starts fussing so he tosses the comb to the side. “Enough of that. It’s boring and not fun at all.

“This might help,” Abby says, handing him a large, worn book. “It was Clarke’s favorite when she was little.”

Bellamy takes the book of colorful nursery rhymes. It immediately captures the girl’s attention, and she curls into his lap as he starts to read.


	14. Why Doesn't She Like Me?

As Bellamy reads, the girl points at pictures, babbling away. By the end of the book, Bellamy’s picked up a few new words in Grounder. By the third reading, he’s learned the word for “again,” and that the girl really loves picture books.

After he finishes the book a fifth time, the girl yawns wide and snuggles against him. “No-taim,” she murmurs, smacking the book.

Bellamy groans. He forgot about this part of having kids. The repetition. The relentlessness. She slaps the book again, shooting him an impatient scowl. With a sigh, he flips to the first page. “This is the last time. I’m serious.”

She settles down, thumb in her mouth, but a few pages in, her head lolls to the side. Bellamy keeps reading, letting the cadence of his voice rock her to sleep. At the end, he holds his breath and gently closes the book, waiting. The girl snorts then starts sucking her thumb again, eyes shut. He lets out a sigh.

“That was my favorite when I was a kid, too.”

Bellamy glances up at Clarke leaning against the table across the room.  _When did she get here_?

It takes him way too long to regain his composure. He wonders if Clarke notices. He shakes the confusion from his head and taps a page covered in colored scribbles. “I can see that.”

Clarke laughs, crossing over to sit next to him. She pulls the book into her lap and looks through it. “I forgot about that. No wonder she kept it all these years. It’s ruined.”

“I don’t know. I think it adds character.”

She scoffs. “They’re awful.”

“You were like five.”

“Three, actually.” She smiles fondly at the pages then closes the book. “I just came by to check on you. Sorry it took so long.”

Bellamy squints around the dim room, noticing light filtering in around a blanket tacked over a window. “What time is it?”

Clarke follows his gaze. “Just after sunrise. About six.”

He rubs his forehead. “Huh. I’m not even sure what day it is.”

“I think it’s Tuesday. Not that it matters. I can open the curtain if you want.”

He blinks at her in confusion. Clarke nods at the window. “You keep staring. I can open it. It’s actually kind of nice out.”

Bellamy shakes his head then lays it on the back of the sofa. “Sorry. We didn’t have windows in our quarters. No one I knew did. It’s just weird.”

Clarke’s face flushes and she looks anywhere but at him as she picks at the corner of the book. She glances around the room. “I guess I never really thought about everything I had growing up. I really thought things were the same for everyone. That everything was fair on the Ark.” She lets out a puff of air that ruffles the hair around her face. “I’m probably just reinforcing my princess persona right now. I really was privileged.”

He gives her a crooked grin that makes her face blush more until she covers it with her hands. Bellamy laughs. “It’s not your fault, Clarke. You’re a product of your environment same as the rest of us. Besides, you kind of blew the whole princess thing to hell with Wanheda.”

She looks away, her hand going to the necklace. She drops it a few seconds later, but he can see the slump in her shoulders. The defeat. He hates it.

“Ready to talk about it yet?”

“No,” she says without looking at him.

“Not ready to talk about it now or not with me?”

Her eyes meet his. “Both?”

It comes out as a question. He nods and drops it. She’ll talk when she’s ready.  _Just not to me_.

Part of him is relieved. He’s not sure he wants her to confide in him anyway. He wants to be a good friend, and she obviously needs to talk to someone, but on the other hand, it’s a huge punch to the gut. He’s surprised, though, at how much it hurts that she doesn’t want to talk to him about it at all.

“I heard Jasper’s party got a little out of hand last night,” Clarke says before the awkward silence can suffocate them. “Something about greased pigs and setting off the fire suppression system.”

Bellamy snorts, thankful for the change in subject. “Sounds about right. With Jasper every night is the end of the world.”

Their laughter wakes the girl. She sits up, rubbing at her eyes. Her face lights up when she sees Bellamy, but as soon as she notices Clarke, her eyes narrow. Bellamy tries not to laugh.

Clarke frowns, moving slightly away. “Why doesn’t she like me?”

The girl’s eyes narrow even more like she’s trying to bore a hole right through Clarke. Clarke shifts even farther down the couch.

Bellamy can barely contain his amusement, getting a glare from Clarke. “I’m sorry,” he says, desperately trying not to laugh at her. He just can’t help it—they’re both so damn cute sometimes.  _Did I really just think that?_

She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“I don’t know why she doesn’t like you. I mean, what’s not to like?” The look on her face challenges him to finish that thought. His heart flips because, really, that’s all it takes. Just a look.

_Pathetic_.

He tries to ignore the confused giddiness he feels. He lifts a hand, ticking off each thing on a finger. “You’re bossy. A know-it-all. Way too-”

Clarke shoves him away by his face. “You suck.”

He laughs. He forgot how good it felt to rile Clarke up. They’d been so busy the last few months just trying not to die, he hadn’t had time to smile let alone joke around. It feels good to let it out.

“I miss this.” The words slip out before he can stop them. It seems wrong to miss something that was never really there. That was always shrouded in misery. But there were some good times wedged in there somewhere, and he misses them. He can’t explain it.

Because you are a pathetic mess.

Clarke understands him, though. She rests her head on his shoulder and whispers, “Me, too.”

There goes his heart doing gymnastics again. How does she do that?  _If she only knew the effect she has on me. I_ _’d be in serious trouble._ Bellamy’s too busy trying to get the butterflies in his stomach to settle to notice the tension building. Then the girl shifts in his arms, drawing his attention.

The look on her face is pure murder. All directed at the spot where Clarke is touching Bellamy.  _Oh boy._ Clarke senses the change, too. She lifts her head, her eyes going wide at the daggers the girl is shooting her. She slowly backs away, moving to the complete other end of the sofa.

Bellamy bites back a smile. “She really doesn’t like you.”


	15. It's a Really Bad Idea

Clarke and the girl stare at each other for a few tense moments before Clarke succumbs to the child in herself, sticking out her tongue. It’s enough to make the girl laugh, easing the tension down a couple notches. Bellamy smiles at both of them—the relief he feels is physical. He needs the two of them to get along. He’s not sure why.

_Liar. You know why_.

He shakes away the annoying voice as Clarke gets up. “I’m supposed to meet Raven for breakfast. She promised me real food. Want to come?”

“Do I get a plus one?”

She looks at the girl for a second. “I guess. If she promises not to stab me with anything while we eat.”

Bellamy chuckles. “I can’t make any guarantees.”

“I guess if I want your company, I’ll have to chance it.” She immediately blushes like she said too much.

The warm fuzzy feeling is back, and he has to turn away before she can see the stupid smile on his face. It’s pathetic how desperate he is for her attention.

_Then you_ _’ve been pathetic since you met her_.

_Shut up_.

Bellamy squeezes his eyes shut—arguing with himself isn’t helping him look less pathetic.

“You okay?” Clarke asks.

“Huh? I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

She reaches for him but changes her mind after another glare from the girl at his side. She smiles, though, like the whole thing amuses her. “It’ll all work out, Bellamy. Octavia will be back soon, and we’ll find someone to-” She nods at the girl.

Bellamy forces a smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m sure someone will take her in.” He wonders if she hears how strained those words sound. If she does, she ignores it.

They’re both quiet as they walk to the mess hall. He wishes he knew what she was thinking.

_You want to know if she’s_ _thinking about you. Could you be any more pathetic?_

He sighs. The voice is getting on his last nerve.

_Because it’s_   _true, and you know it._

He glances over at Clarke as her hand comes up to touch the pendant around her neck. He quickly looks away, his stomach knotting.

Definitely not thinking about you. She never will.

As they turn the corner, Kane pops his head out of his office. “Bellamy, I need to talk to you.” He goes back inside. Obviously an order, not a request.

Bellamy groans, head falling back. Clarke chances patting his arm with a sympathetic smile. “Rain check on breakfast?”

“Guess so.”

She waves by, and he waits until she’s out of sight before going in.

Kane starts in as soon as he enters. “We need to talk about patrols and-”

“Welcome back,” Bellamy says flatly.

Kane huffs. “Bellamy, if you’re going to be Commander of the Guard-”

“Not this again,” Bellamy says with a sigh. “I told you I don’t want the job. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise. Find someone else. Miller’s dad’s been on the Guard for thirty years. Ask him.”

“I did,” Kane says without missing a beat. “He turned me down. Said he was too old to learn a management position.” A grin spreads across Kane’s face. “He suggested I ask you instead.”

“For god’s sake. Is everyone insane?” Bellamy gives him a look of frustration. “No one is going to listen to me. And the Grounders all hate me. I’ll be lucky if one of them doesn’t slit my throat in my sleep.”

“Bellamy-”

“Why me?”  _Kane must be losing his ever-loving mind if he thinks this is a good idea_.

“Because I trust you.”

Bellamy’s jaw drops.  _Yep, totally insane_. “You can’t be serious.”

“This isn’t up for debate. I need you to be Commander.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I guess we’ll find something else for you to do. Your mom was a seamstress, right? I assume you know how to sew.”

_What_? “Are you firing me?”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all. It was a joke. A bad one.”

The pain between his eyes swells. “Can’t we do this later?”

“You’re taking this job.”

Bellamy runs a hand over his tired face. “You’re nuts,” he says then turns to leave.

“We’re not done,” Kane says, grabbing his arm.

“I am.” Bellamy jerks his arm free. 

Next to him, the little girl makes a moaning sound. They both look down. Her head snaps back and forth between the two of them, her eyes filling with tears. Bellamy closes his eyes.  _Crap_. He’d forgotten she was there.

Kane just looks surprised. “What’s this?”

He lifts her up as her lip quivers, giving Kane a tired look. “It’s a long story. I wrote a report and everything. Or you could ask Abby.”

Kane strokes his beard, anger apparently ebbed by the new situation. “Um, okay. I guess we’ll talk about this later. You can go.”

Bellamy grunts but doesn’t say anything. He knows the conversation won’t be over until Kane gets his way. No matter how bad of an idea it is.  _And it’_ _s a really, really bad idea_. The voice finally agrees with him.

By the time they catch up to Clarke, the mess hall is much more crowded. Clarke and Raven are sitting at a table right in the middle of the room. The two lean on each other, laughing. They look happy. Then he notices Clarke’s friend Niylah sitting with them. The smile slips from Bellamy’s face and a weight settles in his gut again. He’s lost his appetite.

“Let’s go for another walk instead, huh?”

He rubs at the pain behind his eyes as the girl drags him all over, clearly thrilled to be in charge for once. He should probably ask Abby about the headaches, but he can’t stand the thought of her getting all maternal and clingy again.

When they come to the next junction, the girl stops. She looks up and down the halls, her face scrunched in thought.

“Are we lost?” he asks with a smirk.

She tilts her head at him then frowns around. Her face gets red when he laughs at how cute she’s being, and she stomps her foot in frustration. Which just makes him laugh harder. It takes him a moment to realize she’s actually distraught.

He squats down in front of her to wipe away the tears. “Hey, it’s okay. We all get lost sometimes. Some people more than others.” She doesn’t seem convinced if her trembling lip means anything. Bellamy scoops her up and starts back towards the main part of the station.

They make a right and then a left. Suddenly, the girl arches her back, pushing away from him. She points to a passage on the right.

“That way?”

She wipes away tears with the back of her hand then sucks her thumb. A moment later they’re standing in front of a familiar locked door. He smiles as he keys in his access code. The girl squirms from his grasp and sprints through the maze of crates.

Jasper’s party took a toll on the place. Cups and other trash litter the floor. Boxes have been overturned or pried open. Some of the furniture is considerably more broken than before. Junk is strewn everywhere.

Bellamy picks up a discarded pair of pants with a sigh then tosses them into an open box full of random machine components.  _I’_ _m going to have to have a serious talk with Jasper. Soon. Before things really get out of control_.

He finds the girl in their spot under the observation dome, spinning with her face to the sky. Puffy white clouds drift across a backdrop of bright blue. A few birds sail past. It is a beautiful day. Maybe the last one they’ll see for a long time.

Bellamy lies down on a pile of insulation, his hands behind his head and stares at the clouds. Eventually, the girl joins him, curling against his side. She fidgets until her head is on his shoulder with her arm wrapped around his neck to play with his hair. He rolls his eyes but has to admit he kind of enjoys it. Even when she yanks too hard. It seems to comfort him almost as much as it comforts her.

Being with the little girl has had a calming effect on him. He feels more peaceful when she’s around. He’s not sure what he’s going to do if she leaves.

_When. When she leaves. Because that’_ _s how it has to be_ , the voice tells him.  _Who are you to be raising a kid? You can barely take care of yourself._

_And you destroyed Octavia_.

Bellamy shoves the dark thoughts away, pulling the girl closer. She climbs onto his chest and stretches out, her fingers still tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He listens to her quiet breathing until he drifts off to sleep himself.


	16. We Need You

Little noises break through the fog of sleep. A bang here. A knock there. Drilling? Bellamy groans when his head starts pounding in time to the racket. He stretches his arms over his head, regretting it a second later when the movement pulls at his stitches. The little girl wakes, too, looking around blearily for the source of the noise. Suddenly, the crate to their right screeches across the steel floor. The girl squeaks in surprise and starts crying.

"Sorry," someone says. "Didn't see you there."

Bellamy wearily gets to his feet, rubbing the girl’s back as she clings to him in confusion, fingers twisting painfully in his hair again. They seem to wake up like this more often than not. "What's going on?"

"Repairs. We're trying to patch this section up before the big one hits." The guy shifts from one foot to the other, eyes darting nervously to the girl. "It's going to get pretty loud in here."

“Got it.” They navigate through the labyrinth of boxes and junk until Bellamy finds an airlock open to the outside. Sun spills in forcing him to squint as they step outside. Almost instantly, he feels relief. The cool air soothes his tingling skin, and the sun warms his aching muscles. The sky is a crystal clear blue and not a cloud in site—stormy or otherwise.

 _If only it could stay like this_.

It won’t, though.

Bellamy steps back to allow more of Raven's crew inside. He watches as they climb all over the structure, welding and sealing the tiniest defects. Raven appears at his side, looking tired. She grimaces when she shifts her weight.

"How's it looking?" he asks her, gesturing at the station.

She frowns. "Honestly? Not good. This section of the station took a beating when they crashed. Structurally, it's sound enough to use although the tilting of the floor makes it impractical for anything other than storage."

"Or parties," Bellamy says with a laugh, noticing a worker holding up a discarded bra from one of the boxes.

"Or naps," Raven adds, getting a smile from Bellamy. "The problem is the little micro-fractures that you can't see. We can patch up the cracks and tears, hoping to get them all. But seeing micro-fractures?"

"I'm guessing it's not so easy."

"I'm working on something to make them more visible, but it takes time."

 _A luxury we no longer have_.

Raven continues to glare at the station, arms crossed over her chest. She's lost in her thoughts—calculations and lists of things to do. And whatever else she thinks about that Bellamy can never hope to understand.

"No," she shouts suddenly, taking a few pained steps forward. "Not there. You're going to bring the whole scaffold down. Just put it over there." She sighs and rubs at her temples, muttering curses under her breath. “Idiots.”

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks, as she rubs intensely at her temples,

"I'll sleep after the death wave comes.”

"You're not much help to us if you work yourself to death."

Raven rolls her eyes. "Says the guy constantly putting himself in danger."

"Not the same thing."

Raven turns her full attention on him, eyes narrowed. "How is it not the same thing? Getting yourself killed doesn't help anyone."

"The difference," he says, staring off into the distance, "is that we need that big brain of yours. Me? I'm expendable."

Her mouth drops open. Then she pinches him. "I don't want to ever hear you say that again. You are not expendable, Bellamy Blake. We need you."

Bellamy shakes his head. "You'd all be just fine without me. There are dozens of people that can do my job. There's only one Raven Reyes." He gives her a cocky half-grin, getting another annoyed eye-roll in return. But the corners of her mouth curl up despite the fierce look she's trying to give him.

Across the yard, people start shouting.

 _What now_?

A group gathers around two men as they take swings at each other. Bellamy recognizes Henderson from Farm Station.  _Of course_. He lost his entire family when Azgeda attacked. He makes no distinction between the clans. The only good Grounder is a dead one, according to him.

The Arkadians surround the Grounders they’ve isolated, shoving them around. One-on-one isn’t the goal, though. Henderson doesn’t care about a fair fight. Two others from Farm Station jump into the fray. It’s not going to end well.

Members of the Guard race from every corner of the yard, shock-batons already out. But half of them don't do anything. In fact, he’s pretty sure some of them are cheering on Henderson.  _What the hell_?

The Grounders are completely outnumbered and taking a beating. The Guards that are trying to do their job—like Miller and his dad—are held back.The fight grows out of control fast with more people joining in.

“They’re going to start a freaking riot,” Raven says, watching just as intently.

Bellamy looks from her to the fight to the girl in his arms.  _Damn it_. He pries the girl from his neck, shoving her into Raven’s arms. "Watch her a second." He doesn't wait for a response.

"This is what I was talking about," Raven yells after him as the girl starts wailing. “We need you.”

Bellamy has to shove his way through the gathered crowd. "Knock it off," he screams. “Move.” He recognizes more than a few kids from the dropship getting in on the action. For some reason, this angers him more than anything. Maybe he expects more from them after everything they’d been through.  _Maybe I expect too much_.

"What the hell is going on?" he yells, but something slams into his back before he can do anything to stop the fight. He falls forward, barely keeping his face out of the mud. He's hit again—a boot to his ribs, a fist to the side of his head. He rolls to his back, kicking out, connecting with a knee and manages to land a few good punches, but in the end, all he can do is curl into a ball.

Miller finally forces his way to Bellamy, tossing his assailant to the side and helping him to shaky legs.

“Jesus Christ, this is insane,” his friend says as they’re bumped and banged into each other. There’s a cut above his right eye.

The fight ends with the  _pop pop pop_ of automatic gunfire. Kane stands in the middle of the chaos looking more pissed than Bellamy has ever seen him.

"Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on?" Kane shouts, returning his rifle to his chest, one finger tapping near the trigger for emphasis.

Nobody says anything.

"I just want to know who threw the first punch." He’s looking at Bellamy like he’s supposed to know.

Bellamy shakes his head. "I didn't see."

Two Guards—Tyson and Olsen—drag over a couple of Grounders that were obviously in the scuffle—faces battered and bloody.

“These are the guys,” Tyson says. “Saw this one start the whole thing. Savages.” He spits on the ground.

The Grounder says something Bellamy doesn’t understand but recognizes as a curse. Tyson shakes him hard and snaps open his baton.

The tension in the yard is suffocating. Or maybe it feels that way because of his bruised ribs. Kane waits, but no one else comes forward.

“Fine,” Kane says, looking disappointed. “Take them to the stockade. Everyone else go back to work or you’ll join them.”

The crowd disperses slowly, muttering and mumbling to themselves. Kane joins Bellamy and Miller who quickly excuses himself.  _Traitor_.

"This," Bellamy says to Kane before the other man can open his mouth, "is why I can't take that job."

"No, this is why you're perfect for it. You instinctively tried to stop it-"

"And then got my ass kicked."

"Well-"

"While half the Guard stood there and watched. Or joined in.” He was pretty sure they were the guys that attacked him. He wipes a trickle of blood from his busted lip. “The Grounders want me dead and so do more than a few Arkadians.”

"That isn't true."

Across the yard, the girl starts screaming again. Raven is already heading their way.

"I'm done talking about this. I'm going to go get cleaned up and find something to eat since I missed breakfast," Bellamy says, voice hard. He doesn’t know why he’s being so combative with Kane after everything the man’s done for him.

The girl launches herself into his arms as soon as Raven gets close. Her face is streaked with tears and snot, hair sticking to her cheeks and eyelashes. She immediately tangles her fingers in his hair and lays her head on his shoulder.

Kane looks like he wants to say more, but Bellamy just walks away, leaving him to deal with the aftermath. He makes it a few yards before his eyes zero in on Octavia standing among some of the Grounders watching the events.

 _Thank God_.

He starts to go to her but one hard look stops him cold. She shakes her head in disgust and turns her back to him.

_At least she_ _’s safe._


	17. They're So Cute At That Age

Bellamy ignores Kane’s shouted orders to come back. He really doesn’t care and has more important things on his mind.  _Let him fire me. Solves my problem. There_ _’s nothing wrong with being a tailor._

The voice laughs because he knows Bellamy could never give up the responsibility.

It takes a good twenty minutes of walking before he starts to calm down. He finds himself among the makeshift homes families have built out of whatever scraps they could find. Arkadia is becoming a village.

_Was_  becoming

People are packing up the last of their belongings or dismantling the structures for useful materials. Despite the urgency of their entire situation, they’re calm. Almost happy even. They chat from their porches and watch a group of children kick around a ball.

The girl perks up a little at the sound of their laughter. She stops sucking her thumb, eyes tracking the children with curiosity. As if she’d never seen such creatures before. One of the boys kicks the ball, sending it sailing in their direction. Her eyes widen, but she’s not afraid. It lands with a bounce a few feet away, rolling towards them. Bellamy stops it then gives is a kick. The kids continue to chase after it.

They don’t look to be playing any sport. At least none Bellamy recognizes. But they’re having fun. He’s not sure he remembers what that feels like.  _Have I ever had fun_? He spent his entire childhood worrying about Octavia. Friends and fun were the last things on his mind.

As the older kids move off, the girl focuses her attention on another little girl sitting alone in the dirt. She looks a little older with honey-blond hair, chopped short. Like maybe she did it herself. She rocks and coos at a rag doll in her arms. The girl in his arms starts to squirm.

Bellamy puts her down, and for the first time, she voluntarily leaves his side. She inches closer to the other girl, thumb in her mouth. The other girl looks up with a smile, holding the doll out for her to see. With a little encouragement, she sits with the girl who starts jabbering away to her, unaware or not caring that the girl can’t understand.

“They’re so cute at that age,” a woman says, appearing next to him.

“Huh?”

“They’re curious and don’t care which station you’re from or if you’re a Grounder.”

Bellamy watches the two girls trade the doll back and forth, but doesn’t say anything.  _What_ _’s there to say?_ He doesn’t remember being that young and kids sure weren’t station-blind when he was older. He started getting bullied right around the time Octavia was born but was too afraid to do anything for fear of bringing unwanted attention to the family.

“I’m Nicole, by the way,” the woman says, holding out her hand. “That’s my daughter, Cara.”

He shakes her hand. “Bellamy.”

“I know.”  _Of course she does_. Everyone knows the Blake family history, apparently.

He still doesn’t know what to say to her. It must show on his face because she chuckles. “I heard about what happened with-” She gestures at the girls. “The grapevine is vast and active. You just looked a little lost over here. Like you could use some company.”

He’s not sure about that. “Thanks,” he mumbles.

She laughs again. “How are you handling all of this? It’s a huge change.”

Bellamy blinks at her. He’s not sure anyone has asked him how  _he_ feels. They ask about the girl all of the time, but him? “I-” He frowns.  _How am I handling this_? The physical aspect of caring for a child isn’t the problem. He’s done it before even if he was just a kid himself. It came easily then with Octavia, and he slipped right into that role again. It’s all the rest that’s weighing on him. The emotional stuff.

_Told you not to get attached_.

He crosses his arms over his chest like that can settle the panic that chokes him whenever he remembers that she’ll be leaving. Soon, now that Indra is back. He swallows hard, but the lump doesn’t move.

“Overwhelming?”

“You could say that.”

“I felt that way when Cara was born. I was sure I was going to screw everything up.”

“Did you? Screw everything up?”

“All of the time.” Her laugh is infectious. “But I loved every moment of it. I always wished I could do it again—give her the sister I always wanted.”

Bellamy snorts. “Not a good idea.”

“No.” She smiles softly at him. “At least not then. Now-” She rubs her stomach then smiles brightly at his questioning look. “Got lucky—snuck this one in before they reinstated the one-child rule. You know, until after the crisis.”

He’s always heard pregnant women described as glowing. He’s not sure Nicole is glowing, but there’s an air of excitement around her. And contentment. “Congratulations. As someone that did grow up with a sister-” He gives her a smirk. “Good luck.”

That gets a full laugh out of her. “I guess I could come to you for advice on that, huh?”

He shrugs. “I’d say ask Octavia being the sister and all, but she’s not exactly the domestic type. It’s not so much having two but the double amount of trouble they get into. At least that’s what my mom used to mutter most about when we were kids. She was kind of outnumbered.”

“I bet.”

“It’ll be different for you,” he says after a moment. “There was always the fear of being discovered hanging over us. We couldn’t be too loud. Couldn’t attract attention. I used to have to cover Octavia’s mouth when she’d start to cry so no one would hear.”

_Why am I telling her this_? He’s never talked about his childhood with anyone, not even his closest friends. He doesn’t even talk about it with Octavia.  _Maybe that’s why? You need to talk to someone about it._

“That had to have been hard. How old were you when she was born?”

“Six.”

They both stare at the kids, lost in their thoughts. Bellamy tries to clear away the memories. It’s pointless to dwell.

“What are you going to do?” Nicole asks. “With her? Are you-” Her meaning is clear.

Bellamy shakes his head. “Indra will find a Grounder family to take her. For the better. She should be with her people.”

Nicole gives him a sad look. “We’re all the same people now, Bellamy.”

He doesn’t say anything.  _If only that were true_. The Grounders don’t believe that and never will. Neither will the Arkadians. The station is going to be a pressure cooker of hostility when they finally close the doors. And it won’t take long to blow. None of this is going to end well. He’s pretty sure she knows it, too.

Across the clearing, the two girls start fighting over the doll. Bellamy shoots Nicole a “see what I mean” look, but she just smiles.

“They’re kids.”

Bellamy sighs. “Right, kids. I should probably go break this fight up, too.”

Nicole follows him, laughing. “Well, me and Cara and Buttons—the doll,” she adds at his confused look, “will be free anytime you want to stop by while you still have her. Parents all need a break once in a while. Even temporary ones.”

Bellamy forces a smile on his face then winces. He carefully prods his lips. They’re busted open and sore. “I should probably go get cleaned up.”

Nicole pats his arm. “I have faith we’ll get through this. All of us.”

He’s about to argue with her because that’s insane talk but instead asks, “Why? Why do you have faith?”

She’s thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Because I have to be.” She runs her hand over her stomach again. “Because there has to be a future for my children.”

Bellamy gets her.  _Wasn't I just thinking the same thing the other day?_

The girls have apparently settled their differences by the time they get there, once again sharing the doll. This time Nicole gives  _him_ a look. He wishes he could see things like she does. He picks up the girl and hugs her tight, the feel of her breath against his neck reassuring.

“If you’re interested,” Nicole says, “we have a story hour every Wednesday in the mess hall. Ten AM.”

Bellamy racks his brain for a date.

She chuckles. “It’s Tuesday.”

_Clarke was right. She always is_. “I’ll think about it.”

Cara waves bye as she follows her mother to one of the cabins where a man with red hair scoops her up.

The girl rests her head on Bellamy’s shoulder, watching her new friend. He pats her back until she looks over at him. “How ‘bout some lunch, huh? Eat?”

She cocks her head, but he’s pretty sure she understands more than she’s letting on.


	18. She Hasn't Stabbed Me With a Pencil Yet

Bellamy ignores the stares and hushed comments as they navigate the dull corridors of the Ark. He always felt so confined growing up. Their space was finite—nowhere to spread out. Nowhere to escape or be alone. This is worse. The Ark was massive, as small as it felt sometimes. The wreck of Alpha station is suffocating. He feels like the walls are closing in already. He tries to push away the thoughts, but they creep in when he’s not thinking about anything else.

Lost in thought, he nearly collides with someone as they turn the corner. Niylah stumbles back, eyes wide in shock.

“Sorry.” Bellamy’s already stepping around her.

“What happened to your face?” She sounds genuinely concerned.

Niylah is the last person he wants to chat with. Seeing her with Clarke crushes his heart every time. It’s made worse by the fact that she has to be one of the nicest, most forgiving people he’s ever known.  _You did kill her father. You could at least not be rude_. 

He pushes down the strangling lump. “There was an altercation in the yard.”

“Between your people and Trikru?”

He sighs. “I’m not sure how we’re going to make it five years. We couldn’t get along when we had the entire planet to coexist in. Now we have-” He shrugs, feeling more tired than he should.

Niylah glances away with a frown. “I could talk to some people. When you trade for a living, you end up with a lot of favors owed. I could call some in. See if I can get everyone to stay civil.”

“You don’t have to do that. In fact, don’t do that. Don’t waste your favors on this. It’s not just Trikru. The Farm Station survivors aren’t helping. Hell, the Guard isn’t even helping anymore. They stand by and watch.” He rubs at the ache between his eyes. Nothing gets rid of it. “This is a nightmare. It’s a powder keg just waiting for someone to light the fuse.”

She nods. “It won’t take much.”

“And we’ll have full riots.”

“I’m going to talk to some people anyway.” She smiles at the girl and says something in Grounder. The girl watches Niylah but doesn’t say anything in response. She looks back at Bellamy. “You should have Clarke look at your eye.”

Bellamy frowns, prodding his eye. It’s sore and swelled, dry blood crusted down the side of his face. “Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles as she walks away.

_At least you know Clarke isn't_  with _Niylah._

_Shut up_.

He makes a left at the next junction, heading for his quarters. They’ll have to make a pit stop before lunch. He really does need to clean up. Maybe take a shower. As they approach his room, though, he can hear Miller and Bryan shouting. Bellamy screws his eyes shut.

Yeah, not getting involved in that.

He’s not sure where to go now. The observatory is a construction zone. The idea of anywhere public turns his stomach. There’s no shower in the infirmary either.

_You could go see Clarke like Niylah said_.

He ignores the voice but finds himself heading towards Clarke’s quarters anyway. Because they’re not that far from his, he rationalizes.

It only takes a minute to get to Clarke’s. Bellamy pauses with his hand hovering over the door panel.  _This is probably a bad idea._ He shakes off the feeling and presses the buzzer. The girl stares up at him with those big, trusting eyes. He squeezes her hand and smiles which gets a grin in return.

_I_ _’m going to miss her_.

_Stop thinking like that_ , the voice yells.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to ponder the thought long before the door pops open.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says, obviously surprised. Then she glances at his face. “What happened?”

She pulls him in and shuts the door before he can answer. The girl’s already tensed, tracking Clarke as she moves around the room, gathering first aid supplies.

Of course she has first aid supplies in her room.

“Uh, I had to break up a fight in the yard. It’s nothing. Really, I was just hoping to borrow your bathroom to clean up. My quarters are currently, uh, occupied.”

“Miller and Bryan?”

He just nods. There’s not a lot of space so he’s forced to sit on her bed to stay out of her way.

She sets a towel with a bunch of supplies next to him then eyes the girl.

“Really, Clarke, I just need to wash up.”

“What you need are stitches.”

Bellamy groans. “Clarke-”

“And this time, anesthetic.” Before he can protest, she pokes him with a needle above his eye.”

He winces but bites back the automatic, “ow,” at the tip of his tongue. The girl is watching everything intently, and he doesn’t want another incident on his hands.  _God, they_ _were adorable together_. He blushes at the memory, hoping Clarke is too busy to notice.

With his eyebrow numb, there’s no flinching to aggravate the girl. The sutures go in quick, but Clarke, being her mother’s daughter, isn’t done. “All right, let me check your back.”

His head falls, but he decides it’ll be quicker to not argue. He slips out of his jacket and pulls his shirt over his head.

Clarke grimaces so it must be bad. Peeling back the bandage hurts. “You tore them all,” she says. The, “you idiot,” part implied. He sighs as she goes to work removing the old sutures and repairing the damage. The girl stays quiet the entire time. And no one gets hit with anything.

“So, am I done?” He nods at her bathroom door.

She just hands him a towel. “I hold you responsible for any injuries I sustain. Be quick.”

Bellamy chuckles, leaving the two girls together. He fully intends to take a quick shower. In and out. Enough to wash the blood and grime from his skin. No need to test the newfound truce between them. But as soon as the steaming water hits his skin, he groans. Like he’s never felt something so amazing.

He lets the water cascade over his body, watching it swirl into the drain. There’s something hypnotizing about it that clears his head of thought. It’s a nice change from the constant worry.

It doesn’t last long. Something crashes outside, getting him moving again. With a sigh, he quickly scrubs his skin raw with the bar of soap on the ledge. He manages to lather it up enough to wash his hair. He at least feels human when he gets out.

He towels off before wiping the steam from the mirror. It’s the first he’s looked at his face, and it’s worse than he thought. No wonder people keep staring. There’s a cut just above his left eye now filled in with thick, black stitches. His brow is swollen as is the skin below his eye which is already turning an ugly shade of purple, and his lips are split on both sides. He’s one giant bruise.

His arms, though, are pockmarked with the angry red welts from the black rain. They look like they’re healing, but some of them are still raw. From what he can see, his shoulders and neck are even worse. Not to mention the various scars covering most of his body. 

_You_ _’re a mess. Inside and out. What makes you think you can care for a child? You can’t even take care of yourself_.

Bellamy jams the palms of his hands into his eyes, wishing the voice would just shut up.  _I know that. She_ _’s better off with a real family._

_But you don ’t really believe it_.

Wearily, he pulls on his grungy clothes. They kind of defeat the entire shower thing, but they’re the only clothes he owns at the moment. He’ll have to ask Raven for a spare set.

Boots tied, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for a gruesome scene. He’s not expecting laughter when he exits the bathroom. Clarke and the girl are sitting on her bed, bent over a piece of paper. The girl watches as Clarke draws something. Her patience runs out, though, and she shoves Clarke’s hand away to try it herself. Bellamy doubts she has Clarke’s finesse by the way she’s angrily laying down layers of crayon.

“Hey,” Clarke says, noticing him. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. What’s this?”

Clarke smiles. “I thought maybe I could win a spot on her good side.” She gestures at the spread of paper and coloring instruments. “We cleared out the Art Supply Store. No point in letting the stuff go to waste.”

“You think it’s working?”

Clarke admires the drawing the girl holds up. “Well, she hasn’t tried to stab me in the eye with a pencil yet. I’d say that’s progress.”

Bellamy laughs, getting the girl’s attention. She tosses the crayon to the side to climb into his lap. She cuddles up to his chest, thumb always in her mouth. He smooths down her hair and resists the urge to kiss the top of her head with Clarke watching.

But Clarke switches her attention to cleaning up the art supplies. She’s quiet for a long time. A sure sign she has something on her mind. He waits until she eventually can’t rearrange the papers and pencils any further.

“You disappeared at breakfast,” she says softly.

He licks his lips, not sure how to respond. Half truths, maybe? “My meeting with Kane ran long,” he says with a dry laugh. Longer than Bellamy had liked so that part is true. 

“I waited.”

He cringes. More guilt. “Yeah.” He fiddles with one of the holes in his pants so he doesn’t have to look at her. “I went by, but you looked-” He searches for a word. “Occupied.”

“What do you mean?’

“You were with your friends, and I wasn’t exactly in the mood to socialize. I didn’t want to ruin your breakfast.”

She gives him a look like she reads right through his lies, but she can’t quite figure out his motive apparently. She frowns then stacks the papers again. “We could try for lunch?” She sounds hopeful.

Bellamy smiles. “That was our next stop.”

Clarke bites her lips, blushing slightly, and he forgets every ache and pain. Every reason for ditching her that morning.  _How does she do that?_


	19. We're Not Calling Her Petunia

As they walk to the mess hall, Clarke rubs it in that he missed some real food at breakfast. Eggs and ham and spinach. He tries to look angry, but the smile on her face sets his heart fluttering, and he has to spend the entire time trying not to grin like an idiot.

A shot of energy bolts through his arm when she accidentally brushes against him.

 _Get a grip, Blake,_ the voice tells him.  _Before she realizes you’re a desperate fool._

_Probably too late for that._

When she continues to bump into him, he starts to wonder if maybe it isn’t an accident. The flutter in his heart moves to his stomach. She grins up at him when she realizes he’s staring.

_Like. A. Desperate. Fool._

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She gives him a look then ducks her head.  _Is she blushing?_

The mess hall is much more crowded than that morning. The line for rations stretches around the room. The Grounders are bunched together at one end, looking completely out of place, while the Arkadians just look nervous. There’s an obvious line drawn, and no one is willing to cross it.

It takes nearly ten minutes to get through the line for a bowl of gruel. Er, soup. He thinks it’s supposed to be soup.  _At least it's not freeze-dried mystery meat._ The little girl wrinkles her nose as he sets the bowl in front of her. “Yeah, it tastes about as bad as it looks.”

The expression she gives him is withering, but she picks up the spoon anyway, hunger winning over her disgust. Clarke sits on his other side, her knee resting against his. The dumb butterflies go haywire.  _Don’t read into it._ The butterflies don’t care if it’s an accident, though.  _Can she hear my heart pounding? Does she know she can do this to me?_

Bellamy plays with his food, suddenly too nervous to eat.

“You okay?” Clarke asks.

“Just a lot on my mind.”

She doesn’t get a chance to comment on that as Jasper arrives, slamming his bowl down with gusto and spilling a third of it onto the table. Everyone in a ten-foot radius looks up at him.

“Good afternoon ladies and gents.”

“You’re awfully cheery,” Bellamy grumbles, finally taking a bite of his food and regretting it.

“Why not? It’s another beautiful day in the neighborhood. The temperature is a steady 69 degrees, and the sky is an amazing shade of gray. Can you feel the sun on you?” He takes an exaggerated breath, face turned to the ceiling as if enjoying the weather.

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You know Kane’s going to find your still and shut it down eventually. We can’t afford to waste the water or the grain.”

“Posh.”

“I’m serious Jasper. That’s food out of people’s mouths.”

Jasper looks at the girl who’s making a face into her bowl instead of eating it. “Yeah, that’s a real loss.”

Bellamy’s about to press the point when Clarke gently squeezes his leg, setting off another flurry in his chest. He glances at her. “Let it go,” she mouths, so instead, he takes another bite to keep from saying anything he’ll regret later.

Miller, Bryan, and Harper find their way over—Harper sitting as far from Miller and Bryan as she can get. She shoots them disgusted looks as they practically meld into one being.  _Guess they made up from earlier._

“They’ve been at it all morning,” Harper says, pretending to gag.

“You’re just jealous,” Miller tells her.

Bellamy chuckles. “Speaking of—where  _is_ Monty?”

Harper blushes bright red. “Arguing with Raven about something. That girl needs to take it down a notch before she goes supernova.”

“Rations are a lot of responsibility,” Clarke says.

“And she has to fix the ship, too. Who decided she had to be chief engineer and queen of the pantry?” asks Jasper then ducks his head. “Speak of the tyrant.”

“Clarke.” Raven drops a pile of computer parts onto the table, nearly knocking the little girl’s uneaten food onto the floor. Either she didn’t hear Jasper’s comment or she’s ignoring him like everyone else.

The girl looks up, startled. Bellamy sets the bowl straight and hands back the spoon.

“Raven, I told you-” Clarke starts.

“And I told you, the numbers don’t add up. We can’t take on any more.”

“You want us to turn refugees away?” Their voices are rising, gathering attention

Jasper jumps up and throws an arm around Raven, but she shoves him away. “Please don’t fight. Impressionable ears are listening.” He moves over, placing his hands over the girl’s ears. She looks up at him in confusion. Raven huffs then storms off to wait in line for her ration.

“It’s okay little girl, the big, mean lady is gone,” Jasper says each word slowly, enunciating each syllable like that will make her understand.

Bellamy smacks his hands away. “Leave her alone.”

The girl looks back and forth between them, brow furrowed.

Harper smiles at her, wiggling her fingers. “Has she said anything yet?”

Bellamy thinks of her babbling away at the stars, but something keeps him from mentioning it. He shakes his head. “Not really. Just a couple mumbled words here and there. I’m pretty sure she can talk, but it’s a lot to take in. She’ll speak when she’s ready.”

“No doubt. But what do we do with her until then? We can’t keep calling her girl or kid.”

“What about darling or sweetie pie?” Jasper suggests.

Harper ignores him. “She needs a name, and if she won’t tell us hers, we’ll have to name her ourselves.” She seems excited about this prospect.

“I vote for Princess Petunia.”

“Shut up, Jasper. We’re not calling her Petunia.”

“What about Marigold? Daisy? Chrysanthemum?”

Harper scoops up a bit of gruel and flings it at him, nailing him in the chest

Jasper slowly slides his finger through the mess then licks it off dramatically. Harper wrinkles her nose. “You’re disgusting.”

Jasper laughs.

“What about Lucky?” someone says. Bellamy looks up to see Murphy and Emori standing behind him. “You know because she was lucky to not get eaten by wolves or whatever.”

“It was a panther,” Miller says, finally untangling from his boyfriend.

The tension at the table goes up a notch. Murphy tends to have that effect on people. The little girl looks from Murphy to Miller then up at Bellamy with a frown, obviously sensing it, too. “Guys,” Bellamy says. “Can we not-”

Emori clears her throat. “Or, you could, you know, ask her.” She pulls a chair over and sits next to the girl. She starts jabbering in Grounder.

“We tried that,” Bellamy says.

The girl obviously understands Emori, but she still refuses to speak. She does smile and giggle. Emori looks up at Bellamy, eyes twinkling. “She’s adorable. She reminds me-”

“I swear to god if one more person says she looks like me.”

“I was going to say she reminds me of my sister.”

Murphy starts. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

Emori shrugs. “I don’t like to talk about her.”

“How come?” asks Jasper. “Was she all-” He starts flapping his hand around like an idiot.

Murphy has him on the ground in three seconds. “What did you say?”

_Aw, shit._

Jasper just laughs. Even after Murphy drives a fist into his mouth, he keeps laughing. Bellamy jumps up at the same time Miller does. They each grab an arm, dragging Murphy off of Jasper who still hasn’t stopped laughing. The entire mess hall is watching now. Jasper gets up, wiping blood from his lip. He staggers closer to the table. “I think he’s a little sensitive,” he says in a stage whisper.

Bellamy tightens his grip as Murphy struggles to get loose. 

“Get him out of her,” Bellamy growls under his breath. 

Harper grabs Jasper by the collar, dragging him away. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she yells.

Murphy jerks his arms free and straightens his jacket. Emori has the little girl in her lap, covering her ears. She looks up at Murphy with wide eyes. “John, it’s okay.”

“Come on,” Murphy says, reaching a hand to her. “I know where we’re not wanted.”

“Finally, he figures it out,” Miller mutters.

“Miller,” Bellamy warns, setting his chair right side up.

Murphy stiffens but doesn’t say anything. Emori hands the girl to Bellamy before following Murphy out of the mess hall. Bellamy rubs at his face. He won’t have to worry about the Grounders attacking when they’re going to tear each other apart on their own.

Raven comes back then. “What did I miss?”


	20. The Question of the Day

No one answers Raven. Miller picks up his chair and sits back down next to Bryan. Bellamy scoops Murphy’s spilled food into his discarded bowl with a sigh. Clarke just stares at the table. Her knee isn’t touching his anymore, and it leaves him feeling cold.

Raven keeps looking around the table. “What? What did I miss?”

“We’re going to have to do something about him,” Bellamy finally says, pressing at the sore spot between his eyes.

“Murphy?” says Miller. “I say we jump him out back and steal his lunch money.”

Bellamy sighs. “I mean Jasper. He’s not getting better. And he didn’t want to be in here in the first place. He’s a loose cannon.”

“What do you want us to do?” Bryan asks. “Tie him up?”

“I don’t know. At this rate, he’s going to spend the next five years in the stockade.”

“Maybe that’s the best place for him,” Clarke says softly. Bellamy knows what she means—Jasper is a danger to himself and others. She’s just as worried as he is.

Raven finally sits down. “Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” When no one answers still, she throws up her hands. “Fine, whatever. I have work to do anyway.” She pulls a tablet from the pile and starts reading while absently shoveling food into her mouth.

_How can she eat this stuff?_ Bellamy drops his spoon into the mush and pushes the bowl away. He’s not hungry anymore. Doesn’t look like anyone is.

It’s quiet—everyone lost in their thoughts—until Harper comes back with Monty.

“Where’s Jasper?” Clarke asks, looking concerned.

“I took him to Medbay.” Harper slides into the seat Jasper vacated. “He needed to cool off, and his nose wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

Monty fills in the spot between her and Miller, blinking at the girl. “Um, hello.”

The girl cocks her head. She’s been quiet through the whole thing, just watching.  _Analyzing_ , Bellamy thinks.

“Yeah, meet Bellamy’s new BFF,” says Raven, not taking her eyes from the tablet. “Don’t say she looks like him or he might tear your ears off or something.”

Harper pulls on one of Monty’s ears. “And I kind of like your ears.”

Monty blushes. “Where’d she come from?”

Bellamy glances around the table.  _Where has he been?_ “I thought everyone knew everyone’s business around here.”

“We found her a couple days ago,” Miller explains. “She almost got eaten by a big cat. But Bellamy had to do his hero thing. Now he has this shadow that’s totally cramping his style.”

Everyone starts laughing. Bellamy just shakes his head, but he feels a little calmer now that Clarke’s knee is back against his. “Funny,” he tells Miller.

“Oh.” Monty frowns at his food for several seconds. “Where was I?”

That gets everyone laughing again. Harper slings an arm around his shoulder, practically climbing onto his lap. “Holed up in engineering, being Raven’s slave,” she says sweetly, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’ll fill you in on everything you’ve missed. Later.”

Harper kisses his cheek, getting a retching noise from Miller. She flips him off but sits back in her own chair. Bellamy watches all of this feeling sort of detached.  _When did they all get so close? Where have_ I  _been?_

_Oh, you know—off being a traitor and alienating everyone that cares about you—the norm._

“So, what’s her name?” Monty asks. He takes a bite of his food and makes a face.

“Ah,” says Harper, “that’s the question of the day. She won’t tell anyone so we get to name her.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Well, we can’t keep calling her, ‘girl.’”

“Okay, so what do we call her?”

Harper considers the girl, taking a bite of Monty’s food. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I agree with Murphy.”

Miller nearly chokes. “What?”

“We should call her Lucky.”

They all turn to the little girl. She blinks up at them when she realizes all of the attention is on her then glances at Bellamy for reassurance. He slips a strand of hair behind her ear.  _It’s still a mess—I should get that comb from Abby._

Harper pulls him from his thought with a little “awe” sound, making Clarke giggle. Bellamy scowls at his food, but he can’t stay annoyed at anything that can make Clarke giggle. It has to be one of the greatest sounds in the world. And the world doesn’t get to hear it enough.

“Lucky?” Raven says, with a raised eyebrow. “Not the girliest of names.”

“Says the girl named after a big, black bird.” Harper sticks out her tongue.

Raven returns the gesture, making everyone laugh again.

“Well, what would you suggest then?” Clarke asks Raven.

Before she can answer, a figure looms over them. Indra. “Her name is Heaven. She’s from a Trikru village not far from here.”

Clarke frowns. “How do you know that?”

Indra’s eyes slide from the girl to Bellamy. “Because I knew her father. He was one of my warriors. A good man. He believed in Lexa’s vision of a unified future for the Thirteen Clans. So, he marched with me to protect Arkadia from Azgeda.”

Bellamy can’t breathe.

“And he died in his tent on the battlefield. As he slept.”

All of the oxygen is being sucked from the room. It tilts so hard, he nearly falls out of his chair. Clarke’s fingers dig into his leg. She’s trying to ground him.  _It’s not working._

The table has grown unimaginably quiet. Indra is watching him. Probably waiting to see how the news shatters him. Maybe she’s imagining shoving a knife through his heart. There are a million ways Indra could kill him. He’s not sure he’d fight back. It’d probably hurt a lot less than the crushing pain he’s feeling right now.

Standing a couple feet behind Indra, Octavia watches, face blank. Bellamy doesn’t know what to make of that. She hasn’t said anything. Not that he expects her to come to his aid anymore.

_She hates me._

_I deserve to be hated._

He fights back the bile that gathers at the back of his throat and looks down at the girl. At Heaven. She stares back with big, innocent eyes, completely unaware that the guy she’s latched onto murdered her father.  _Jesus._ He can’t look at her.

“Bellamy?” Clarke sounds a hundred miles away. There’s a whooshing in his head drowning out all other thought.

_I have to get out of here._ He stands up on shaky legs.

_Coward,_ says the voice.

He needs air, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s stuck in these walls. With this little girl. A reminder of all of his dirty sins. The things he can never take back. The blood he’ll never wash from his skin. The room starts to spin.

Indra won’t stop staring at him.  _God, why won’t she stop?_

The little girl—Heaven—reaches for him, her little lip trembling. She senses something isn’t right. She’s going to start crying any second. Bellamy knows it. He feels sick.  _Why won’t the room stop spinning?_ He wants off this ride.

Indra gives him one last withering glare then leaves. Octavia hesitates but eventually turns and follows Indra out of the room.  _Hates me._

Someone says his name. He’s not sure who. Everyone is staring. He barely notices.

Bellamy stumbles back. Clarke is talking to him, but he can’t hear anything over the screams of dying men. He’s going to vomit. He spins and walks as fast as he can without actually running. Clarke follows on his heels.

He makes it to an unused hall and collapses onto his knees, dry heaving what little was in his stomach. Clarke kneels behind him, rubbing his back.

“Don’t,” he says, shoving her away. “I don’t want your sympathy.”

“Bellamy, stop it.” She tries to touch him again, but he jumps up, moving away from her. She sighs. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

He shakes his head. She’ll never understand. No matter how much blood she thinks is on her hands, she will never understand what he did. He walks backwards away from her. When she doesn’t try to follow, he turns and runs, leaving her in the hall.

_You’ll never outrun your demons, you know,_ taunts the voice.

He knows.


	21. Like a Coward

Somehow Bellamy ends up in the cargo hold. It’s as good a place to hide as any.

_Hide like a coward._

He doesn’t remember hitting the wall, but pain screams up his arm. He ignores it, sliding down the wall to sit. He jams the heels of his palms into his eyes until they feel like they might explode. Color blobs pop in his vision when he opens them again.

_Coward._

He needs to get a grip, but the sick feeling in his stomach won’t settle. He takes deep breaths, counting to ten before letting each one out like his mom taught Octavia to do when she was scared.

It’s not doing much for him now, though. He bangs his head against the wall as the tears finally fall. He hasn’t let himself cry before. Not over this. He doesn’t get to cry over this.

_Coward._

The anger swells like it always does, nearly strangling him. He’s a monster. Has been since the moment he took that gun from Shumway. He’ll never escape it, and Clarke is insane if she thinks he can ever forgive himself. She doesn’t understand. He hopes she never does.

_Coward. Murderer._

His hand throbs, but he can’t seem to care.  _What is wrong with me?_

_You’re a coward._

_Murderer._

_Worthless._

_Undeserving._

“Shut up!” The words echo around the cavernous space. He bangs his head a few more times, but the voice doesn’t stop. He only manages to crack his skull.

Bellamy has no idea how long he sits there, staring at nothing. Long enough for the room to darken as the sun moved beyond the small window in the cargo door.  _Hours. I’ve been here hours? Does it matter?_

The tears have dried, caking his skin. He feels hollowed out. His knuckles won’t bend. He stares blankly at the broken skin and blood. He doesn’t care.

_What do I do now?_

_You quit being a little bitch, suck it up, and go back._

_God, why won't the voice go away?_

_Because you know I’m right._

Slowly, Bellamy pushes himself up the wall until he’s standing on wobbly legs. The adrenaline that fueled his earlier rage has dissipated, leaving him feeling weak and foolish. He scrubs his face with his good hand, hoping to wipe away the evidence of his breakdown. He doubts he does a good job—his face still feels sticky.

He’s not sure he can ever face his friends. Or anyone. But he can’t stay in the cargo hold forever. Hiding.

_Like a coward._

“I’m not a coward,” he says to the empty room. He’s never shirked responsibility before, and he’s not going to start now.  _Time to face the music._

The mess hall will be mostly empty at this hour, but he avoids it anyway. He jams his injured hand under his other arm which really does nothing for the pain, but at least he doesn’t have to look at it. He’s almost to his quarters when someone calls his name.

Bellamy stops with a groan as Kane catches up to him. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I figured.”

“I heard about what happened in the mess-”

Bellamy walks away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that? No pestering me until I finally give in?”

“No.” Kane runs a hand over his weary face. “What did you decide about the job?”

“I knew there was a catch.” Unfortunately, they arrive at his quarters so he has nowhere else to run. Kane waits. There’s no getting out of this conversation, and he’s too drained to fight anymore. “I decided I don’t deserve it. I’m a murderer, Kane. I deserve to be locked up. Or whatever it is Grounders do to people like me. Something about cutting off hands and tongues.”

“Bellamy-”

“No. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise. Find someone else.”

“There’s no one else I trust more than you.”

“I think ALIE fried your brain,” Bellamy mutters. “You know, it doesn’t really matter who’s Commander. The Guard is a mess. Half of them still believe the Grounders are our enemies and treat them that way. They stand by while Farm Station beats the crap out of anyone they want. That riot wouldn’t have gotten so out of control if they’d actually done their job.

“But they didn’t. They were too busy placing bets and kicking the shit out of me just for fun.” He feels himself spinning out of control again and takes a deep breath. “Those two Grounders you locked up didn’t start anything. I’d bet my life on it. Henderson was out for revenge, and he doesn’t care what clan they’re from. They fought in self-defense. And they got locked up. Is it any wonder they hate us?”

Kane puts his hands up, trying to calm Bellamy. “Then fix it.”

“What?”

“Take the job and fix the Guard. Get rid of the guys not doing their jobs. You can let the Grounders go if they’re innocent. You’d be in charge.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Seriously? You’d give me that much power?”

Kane laughs like he thinks Bellamy’s a complete idiot. “That’s the point. You’re the  _only_ one I trust with it. You’ll be fair and-”

“No,” he interrupts. “The Grounders would never accept me as any kind of authority figure. Neither will the Guard. I’m twenty-four—a kid to them. I didn’t even finish my training.”

“Bellamy, you’re already doing the job. You’ve been doing it for months.”

_Why can’t he understand this?_ “They aren’t going to listen to some drop-out-”

Kane cuts him off. “I remember when you were a cadet, did you know that?”

Bellamy shakes his head.

“You were top of your class, high praise from all your instructors, no disciplinary marks. You were going to graduate with honors. Probably would have made lieutenant in a couple years.”

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest. “Your point?” He’s not in the mood to stir up the ghosts of his past.

“My point is that I wasn’t surprised when I learned you took it upon yourself to lead those kids. You were born to do this.”

“Wow, I’m really getting the hard sell here.” Kane’s frown deflates Bellamy’s anger. He looks so damn disappointed, and that hurts a lot more than Bellamy wants to admit. The idea is nuts. He knows no one is going to listen to him except his friends and a few loyal guardsmen. Could he really fire half the Guard? Would there be enough people to replace them? His mind runs in circles, trying to figure it out.

And Kane is giving him an infuriatingly knowing look.  _Damn him._ “I’ll think about it,” Bellamy finally says with a sigh. “Really think about it this time. No guarantees.”

_I’m screwed. Kane is never going to let this go._

Kane holds his hand out to shake on it. Bellamy moans when he pulls his hand out from under his arm.

That’s all it takes to switch Kane into damned paternal mode. “What happened to your hand?”

“Nothing.”

“Bellamy.” Kane tugs at his sleeve to get a better look. “This isn’t nothing. What happened?”

“I had a disagreement with a wall.”

Kane narrows his eyes, obviously not impressed with his humor. “A disagreement?”

“Yeah,” he says with a dry laugh. “I didn’t like the way it was talking about my mom.”

Kane sighs just like Bellamy’s mom did when he’d pushed her to the edge. “Come on, you’re going to the infirmary.”

Bellamy hangs his head. “But Abby will yell at me.”

That gets a huge laugh out of Kane. “Yeah, she probably will. I guess you should have thought about that because she’s a lot scarier than me.”

Bellamy follows Kane feeling like a little boy being led to the principal’s office.  _Well, you’ve been acting like a child so why not be treated like one?_ He hates when the voice is right.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Kane softly.

“For what?”

“Acting like an asshole. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Kane watches him a moment. “What exactly are you taking out on me?”

Bellamy shrugs. Kane won’t understand either. None of them can. He doesn’t know what to tell him anyway.

“You can talk to me, Bellamy,” Kane says, laying his hand gently on Bellamy’s arm. “You know that right? I’m always here for you.”

He nods. He can never tell exactly what Kane means when he says stuff like that. Is he supposed to Bellamy’s boss? His friend? A father? He doesn’t know what to do with that last one. He’s never had a father. And he’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve a guy like Kane as one. The man has way too much faith in him.

_You’ll never deserve it._


	22. We've Been Looking All Over For You

Bellamy hears a keening noise in the distance before they turn the last corner to Medbay. His heart catches when he realizes what the sound is, and he picks up his pace without waiting for Kane. He’s nearly to the door when Jackson rushes out.

“There you are,” he says with a relieved sigh. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

He follows the doctor inside, heart racing. Abby is pacing back and forth across the room with Heaven in her arms. The little girl is screaming, back arched, face red and tear-stained.

“Found him,” Jackson shouts over the crying.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asks although it’s pretty obvious.

And just like that, the screaming stops. Heaven’s head snaps around. She squirms until Abby puts her down then she runs, bare feet slapping against the cold deck, right into Bellamy’s arms. She buries her face in his neck and starts bawling.

He momentarily gets lost in her—the little girl smell, the soft breaths on his neck, the fingers in his hair—but reality crushes back in after a few seconds.  _You murdered her father; you have no right._

Abby sags against the table and sighs. “She’s been inconsolable since Clarke brought her in a couple hours ago. She said you needed a break.”

Bellamy looks away, shame heating his face.  _God, I’m a selfish bastard._  Add that to his list of offenses. Abby doesn’t say anything, but he feels her judgment burning his skin. He takes Heaven over to the bed they shared and tries to put her down, but she starts crying again.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I just need you to sit on the bed, okay? I told you, Abby’s a friend—you’re safe here.” Not for the first time, he wishes he’d tried a little harder to learn Grounder. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers in her ear. “I’m a jerk. You’ll figure that out soon enough.”

_And you’ll be better off without me._

Her grip tightens—her movements sending pain radiating through his hand. He refuses to let go, balancing her on his left arm while rubbing painful circles on her back with his right.

Heaven sucks in a shuddering breath, letting it out against his neck. She twists her fingers into his hair over and over, her other hand clutching his sleeve like she’s terrified he might just vanish.

_How long had she been alone out there?_

He wonders what happened to her mother. Did she just disappear? Abandon her? He can’t imagine anyone just leaving a little girl in the woods. Something must have happened. It’s not a stretch of the imagination to put ALIE into the picture. So many people were hurt by her obsession with the City of Light. So many lost.

Abby comes around the bed looking all motherly. “Can I take a look at your hand?”

He doesn’t bother answering because she wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway. He waits for her to do her doctor thing, examining then bandaging his knuckles. “You should have an x-ray to make sure nothing’s broken,” she says when she’s done.

He snorts. Broken? It’s not his hand they should be worried about. Bellamy’s pretty sure he’s broken as a person. He pushes the thoughts down with the lump in his throat. “X-ray? Don’t you think I’ve had enough radiation exposure this week?”

Abby shakes her head in exasperation. He’s really pushing the limits of her and Kane’s patience today. “If you need anything.”

He’s thankful she leaves without making a big deal about his hand. He’s tired of her fawning over him like a mother. He had a mother. He doesn’t want another one.  _Liar_ , the voice says.

When Bellamy looks up a moment later, Octavia is standing there, hands resting on the blades at her sides. She looks him over then the girl, brow furrowed. He doesn’t know what to say to her anymore. The closeness they had growing up is gone, filled by this cold hatred that tears at Bellamy’s soul. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to find his center. Heaven starts twisting his hair again almost as if she knew he needed something comforting.  _When did that become comforting?_

Octavia still hasn’t said anything so he guesses he’s supposed to go first. He clears his throat. “I’m glad you got back okay. I was worried.”

For a second, he’s afraid she won’t answer, but then she nods. “We got caught in the west sector. When the storms rolled in, we hid in a cave.”

“Smart.”

The look on her face pains him—like she’s warring with herself over talking to him. “O-” he starts at the same time Octavia says, “She looks like you.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Octavia surprises him by sitting on the bed next to him. She pulls Heaven’s hair away from her face to get a better look. The little girl stares up at her then pops her thumb into her mouth. Octavia’s expression softens to something he remembers from their childhood. It hurts his heart almost as much as her resentment.

“Maybe she’s a long lost cousin or something because she’s the spitting image of you.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “You’re all nuts.”

They sit in silence for an agonizing minute that stretches on forever.

Octavia takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “What happened to your hand?”

He’s about to give her the same line he gave Kane about the disagreeable wall, but it’s the first time Octavia’s voluntarily talked to him in weeks. “I got mad and hit a wall.”

“Mad at who?”

They both stare at his hand. “Myself,” Bellamy whispers. He fights back the tears and finally chances looking at her.

Her head is down, black hair blocking her face. Her shoulders are hunched, neck tense. She hates this. Hates being near him. He wishes he could go back. To change everything. He’s not sure what he’d do, but he’d make it right somehow.

He turns away, laying his cheek on Heaven’s head and wiping his eyes with his good hand. He doesn’t want Octavia to see him cry. Not for any ridiculous macho reasons—she just doesn’t need to see his guilt on top of her grief. It’s not fair to her. Whatever Octavia feels, she can’t possibly hate him more than he hates himself. He doesn’t deserve her forgiveness.

After a while, Octavia gets up like she’s hit her limit of Bellamy-time. She takes a few steps. “I love you, Bellamy,” she says softly.

He looks up, surprised.

She’s staring at a spot on the wall. “I can’t stand to be near you right now, but you’re my brother, and I love you. Always.”

His lip trembles. He sucks it between his teeth biting down until it stops. “Thank you,” he murmurs. He had no idea how desperately he needed to hear those words. “You know I love you, too, right.”

“Yes.”

He lets out a little sigh of relief. Octavia starts to leave again but pauses at the door, finger tapping against her leg. “Indra shouldn’t have said that. Not in front of everyone. That wasn’t right.” Then she’s gone.

Bellamy stares at the empty doorway, not really sure what just happened.  _She said she loved me._  It gives him a little hope for their future. He pushes the hair from Heaven’s face so he can see her. “Yeah, that’s my sister. She can be kind of scary, but she’s cool once you get to know her.”  _She still loves me._  “And everyone’s crazy saying you look like me because you look just like her when she was little, not me.”

Heaven smiles even though she has no idea what he’s talking about. He forces a smile on his own face then presses his forehead against hers. “I wish I knew what to do,” he whispers.

She pats his cheek with her chubby hand before shoving her thumb back in her mouth.


	23. Last Chance to be Happy

The earlier crying wears Heaven out, and eventually, she goes slack against Bellamy’s chest. Trying to get comfortable is difficult with thirty pounds lying across his bruised ribs, but he manages as best he can. His hand smooths down her hair like he did that first night. She moans, reaching out for him but doesn’t wake so he slides her higher until her fingers twist in his hair and she lets out a sigh.

The infirmary is quiet. That should be a good thing—no new catastrophes today—but it’s leaving Bellamy with nothing to do besides think. And remember. That’s always dangerous.

He’s lost track of how many people he’s directly and indirectly killed. Hundreds at a time by misguided decisions. Dozens by his own hand. He shivers, remembering the first.

_But that was in self-defense. Right? I saved Clarke’s life._

That was only the first, though, and he hates to admit it got easier after that.  _Taking a life should never be easy._

_It is for you if you’re being honest with yourself. Remember those two soldiers you shot in cold blood? Easy. Just like massacring all those people on that field. Point, squeeze, boom. Dead._

Bellamy screws his eyes shut against the memory, willing the voice to go away. But how do you escape your own conscious?

His headache grows, hammering in time with his racing heart. The anger builds, but there’s nowhere to release it and only himself to blame.  _Why did I listen to Pike?_

It’s a question he asks over and over, never liking the answers.

_Because you were angry._

_Because you were afraid to lose anyone else._

_Because you needed someone to blame. Someone you could hurt back._

None of them are legitimate excuses, but they’re all he has. The problem, though—the thing that keeps him awake most nights, berating himself—is that he knew it was wrong. At the time they were on that field, he knew what they were doing was despicable and disgraceful. Dishonorable.

_And I did it anyway._

He swallows hard, but it does nothing for his churning stomach. Nothing ever does.

Bellamy glares up at the ceiling, and the lights glare down on him—harsh and unyielding. He doesn’t blink until he’s blinded and tears slide from the corners of his eyes.

He takes Heaven’s hand. It’s tiny compared to his. Alarmingly tiny. She’s so small and fragile, and  _damn_ , he’s going to cry again. He closes his eyes against the press of burning tears. The feeling eventually passes as he rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, watching her sleep. She looks peaceful. Like a child should when they’re sleeping.

“You deserve so much better,” he murmurs, kissing her forehead. “So much better than what the world’s given you so far. Better than what I could ever give you.”

_You don't deserve her. And never will._ The voice is relentless.

He didn’t know a heart could break multiple times—shattering into slivers he’ll never fit back together. This time he doesn’t try to stop the tears. He doesn’t know what else to do.

_Why does it have to be so hard?_

Exhaustion sets in even though he’s slept more in the last few days than he has in a long time. He doesn’t fight the pull, drifting off with Heaven in his arms for maybe the last time.

_Cold._

_There’s snow. Wind dragging across bare arms with a million tiny needles. Stealing his breath._

_Quiet._

_Animal, insect, and man—all deep in slumber. All but them._

_Sneaking, careful where they step. The ground crunches with frost._

_Burning._

_Fires casting shadows on the tents below, flickering and dancing._

_Heat wavering in the air. Smoke drifting into the silent night._

_Unsuspecting._

_A voice on the radio._ Go, go, go.

_Screams._

_Wracked with pain and surprise._ POP POP POP

_Blood._

_Metallic tang stinging his throat. Coating his hands. Spraying his face._

_Death._

_Everywhere, death. The dying, the dead. Still in their beds._

Wrong.

So, wrong.

_No witnesses to their dirty sins._ If something moves, shoot it.

_For Mbege and Roma. For Diggs and Drew. For Finn and Farm Station; Gina and Monroe._

_For the countless others they’ve lost._ _To save countless more._

_But._

_It’s._

_Wrong._

_Wrong, wrong, wrong._

_A man._

_Pleading. Dark hair and eyes, begging. A daughter all alone._

Please, let me go home to her. She has no one else.

_Only good Grounder is a dead Grounder. No witnesses._

BANG.

Bellamy wakes—heart slamming painfully against his ribs. Sweat dampens his shirt and hair. The terror threatens to suffocate him as he gasps for air that never seems to fully fill his lungs.

He reaches for Heaven—desperate for that reassurance she provides. Except there’s nothing but bed next to him. He sits up, eyes darting everywhere for a head of crazy dark hair. The infirmary is deserted—the lights off in Abby’s office.  _Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?_

_She’s gone._

“Heaven?”

It’s the first time he’s said her name out loud, and it catches in his throat. He hops off the bed, looking under furniture and behind equipment. “Heaven, where are you?”  _Come on, don’t do this to me. Please._

He finds her shoes and socks on one of the tables. He doesn’t know why they’re not on her feet. Ice cold panic races through his veins, making him tremble. The door to the office is locked, leaving nowhere else to hide. She’s not in Medbay anymore.

_Did they come and take her away while I was sleeping?_

The thought terrifies Bellamy more than it should. He should be okay with that. He’s not. He’s as far from okay as he can get. He can’t deny it to himself anymore. 

He has no idea what to do.  _Where would they take her?_ _Why wouldn’t they wake me to say goodbye?_

_Because Indra hates you._

_But Abby would never let them-_

The runaway train of thoughts grinds to a halt when he exits Medbay. Heaven is down the hall, happily scribbling on the wall with a blue crayon she must have stolen from Clarke. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding—the relief almost painful.

“Heaven,” he chokes out, and her head whips around to him. She smiles then goes back to her drawing. He wills his heart rate to slow as he walks over to her, but he’s pretty sure he came close to a literal heart attack in the last few seconds. “What are you doing out here, sweetie? You can’t just run off like that.”  _You scared me._

_Please don’t scare me again._

She slaps the wall impatiently, getting him to look at her masterpiece of swirling color. There’s a line from the drawing back to the door of Medbay. She looks so damn proud of herself. He runs his hand over her head. “It’s really pretty, but you’re supposed to draw on paper, not the walls.”

She takes his words as approval, apparently, because she goes back to scribbling, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. He gently pulls the crayon from her hand getting that familiar dirty look. “I have an idea, but first you have to put your shoes back on. Okay?”

When she sees her shoes, she drops to the floor and sticks out her feet, wiggling her toes.  _God, she is so damn adorable._ He remembers the bath and starts tickling her feet. Her giggles sound even better than Clarke’s. His face wants to smile, but his heart is breaking over and over as he ties her laces.  _This is almost over._ The last time he’ll tie her shoes. Last time she’ll grace him with those giggles. Last time he’ll have a reason to smile.

_Last chance to be happy._

When he’s done, he takes her hand. “Come on.” His voice is strangled. “I know where we can find some paper. It’s a lot better than walls, I promise.”


	24. He Can Afford to Give Her This

The door to the Guard office is locked so Bellamy punches in his code and flips on the lights. Heaven starts looking around, opening storage cabinets and poking in dark corners. He digs through the desk drawers until he finds what he’s looking for—an old paper accounting journal. The pages are brittle and yellowed with age—the writing too faded to be of any use. Paper, pencils, crayons. That kind of stuff is hard to find in a world without manufacturing. After a hundred years, most all of it in a two-hundred-mile radius has been found and used.

But he can afford to give her this. She happily sits on his lap scribbling with what’s left of her crayon. Bellamy just watches her. The hair at the back of her head is still a tangled mess. He doesn’t have a brush, so he combs through it with his fingers. She doesn’t seem to mind as long as he’s gentle. He slowly works through the knots, but some patches are so matted, there’s nothing he can do. He continues to play with her hair anyway.

How did he get to this? How did his life unravel so quickly? He rubs his face. He needs to keep his mind off of things. He reaches over and snags a tablet from the desk, pulling up the reports from the incident in the yard. He flips back and forth between the six files without reading.  _This is it? Six reports? There were easily a hundred people in the yard. At least a dozen guards. But only six reports._

Of course, Bellamy can’t say much since he hasn’t filed one yet either. He leans back, tapping at the tablet, detailing what he remembers. Which, honestly, isn’t much. If only he had been paying more attention, jumped in sooner, done something more.  _If only._

The clans will retaliate. He knows it. That’s just how it works—an eye for an eye; blood for blood. Lexa tried to change it, but she’s gone now. He’s surprised it hasn’t happened already.

There are one hundred thirty-six Grounders, mostly Trikru, in Arkadia. They have quarters on the west side of the station with one of the larger rooms converted into a common area. They still have access to public parts of the station though—the mess hall and Medbay. And that’s too much for some of the Arkadians. It isn’t ideal for any of them, and things are only going to get worse, the longer they're forced to live together.

Bellamy isn’t sure how Indra is fairing on her end, but Kane is losing control over here. He just doesn’t want to see it. Without the Guard backing him up, he has almost no authority. The anti-Grounder contingency is restless and building momentum. He’ll have another coup on his hands before long.  _He has to know that, right?_ God, Bellamy’s tired.

They have five years to get through without killing each other. That won’t happen with people like Tyson and Olsen and Henderson running around seeking “justice.” They’re as bad as the Grounders they hate so much.

Bellamy never liked Lexa much, but he admired her commitment to peace. It’s not easy to change hundred-year-old attitudes—to stop generations of killing—but she didn’t give up until her dying breath. He shakes his head. They have to do better this time. Whether it’s to honor Lexa’s legacy or for the futures of generations to come, they have to do better.

He wants a world to live in some day, not just survive.

_Maybe not for me but for those who deserve it._

_For Heaven._

The more he stares at the reports—the more he thinks about it—the more he realizes he’s going to take Kane’s stupid job offer. He doesn’t want all of that responsibility, but what choice does he have? He can’t sit by and watch things fall apart again.  _This time I’ll be on the right side._ He won’t make the same mistakes.

_Just a whole bunch of new ones._

Bellamy’s back aches from sitting in the chair. It’s around 5 a.m. now. The shifts will be changing soon. What he really wants is to sleep in his own bed for once. And if he remembers correctly, Miller and Bryan have duty this shift. Tossing the tablet onto the desk, he lifts Heaven to his shoulder where she rests her head, breathing softly against his neck.

His quarters are blissfully empty when they get there, and he finds Clarke’s book on his bed. No note or anything. Abby probably left it.

_Not sure why—she won’t be here much longer. You don’t need it,_ the voice reminds him. Like he could forget.

He shakes away the thoughts, curling into bed with Heaven and the book. Her eyelids drift shut around the third time through. He softly drops the book to the floor and tries to get comfortable.

He’s tired. So tired. But he can’t sleep. Every time he closes his eyes he hears their screams. The  _pop pop pop_  of gunfire. It lit up the night in sickening bursts of horror. His stomach knots. He can smell the blood and gunpowder and death.

Bellamy stares at the ceiling until his eyes sting and he’s forced to blink. He looks over at Heaven—thumb falling from her mouth, eyelids fluttering slightly. She’s the only thing that’s kept him centered lately. The only truly good thing in his life.

_She’s leaving soon, though. Probably in the morning. Then what?_

He wishes he knew.

When Heaven wakes up several hours later, Bellamy’s eyes are burning and ringed red with exhaustion. He decides to get them both washed up which isn’t exactly easy in the minuscule bathroom. Heaven manages to balance on the edge of the metal sink while he washes her face and hands. Then she does the same for him, getting soap everywhere. They brush their teeth with their fingers because he doesn’t have a toothbrush. Heaven thinks all of this is hilarious. Until they get to the hair.

Bellamy’s comb has more teeth missing than not, but it works for him. Not that he spends much time combing his hair. He quickly runs it through his curls until they’re not tangled and sticking up all over. Heaven eyes the device with suspicion, nose scrunched.

“Come on.” He leads her into the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed with her between his knees. But he doesn’t get any farther than he did the last two times he’s tried before Heaven starts whining. Also growling. Which makes him smile. He turns her around. “You know what, I think we’re going to have to try something different with this mess. How about a haircut?”

Heaven cocks her head. Somewhere, he has scissors. He knows because he cut his own hair not that long ago and forgot to return them to Harper. He digs through his desk until he finds them then stares at her hair. If she was suspicious of the comb, she’s downright hostile towards the scissors.

Her nostrils flare the closer he gets to her head, eyes narrowed to slits and focused on the scissors. Bellamy backs off a little until her breathing steadies. Needing a new tactic, he snips a bit from one side of his bangs, letting the hair float to the ground. “See, it’s easy. We’ll just cut the tangles off. It’ll feel a lot better. Trust me.”

She considers the bits of hair on the ground then blinks up at him with huge trusting eyes that are like a vice around his chest, forcing out all the air. He takes slow breaths as she sits still on the desk chair while he hacks at her hair. The panicky feeling subsides.

When he’s done, the hair isn’t very even, but he managed to cut out the largest knots, allowing him to comb through the rest. He takes her to the mirror in the bathroom and holds his breath. He remembers Octavia freaking out after seeing her hair gone. Heaven turns her head back and forth, brow furrowed.

“I know it’s not that great but-”

She shakes her head—hair flying out and smacking him in the face.

“Right, okay.”

She giggles so Bellamy scoops her up over his shoulder with a chuckle, unable to hide his amusement.

“You are a snot, you know that?”

Her giggles turn into squeals as he tickles her sides.

Then her stomach growls close to his ear. Bellamy settles her in his arms. “You hungry?” He mimes eating, and for once she responds with a sharp nod.

He feels so many emotions in that moment, he can’t describe them all. Mostly there’s love. He hugs her tight, wishing he never had to let go.

_I warned you about getting attached,_ the voice says.  _She’s going to leave you. Like everyone else._

Bellamy ignores it.


	25. They're All Going To Be Fine

They wander down to the mess hall—Bellamy’s heart up in his throat. He keeps smiling at Heaven as she skips next to him, but his nerves are shot. What if his friends are there? What if people stare? What if Indra decides to just take her away then?

_So what? She’s hungry so it doesn’t matter. You suck it up and get her some food. Because that’s what paren-_

He cuts the thought off before it can go further. The mess hall, thankfully, is mostly empty except for a group of chairs in a semi-circle in the corner—children crawling all over them, laughing and shouting.

_Right, story time. Is it really 10 a.m. already?_ He doesn’t have a watch, and his internal clock has been out of whack for days.

Heaven notices the kids, too, pulling him in their direction. He bites back a groan. He was hoping to just grab some food and go back to their quarters.

_His_ quarters.  _His._ Not theirs.  _Don’t forget it._

When Heaven sees Cara, she’s off, leaving Bellamy feeling lost and alone.  _This is how it’s going to be._ Worse even because she won’t ever be coming back.

Nicole waves him over.

“I was hoping you’d show today. I made this for your little friend.” She hands him a small doll made from scraps of fabric and yarn. The head looks like an old sock. And apparently, Cara drew on the face going by the uneven eyes, missing nose, and giant smile.

“Heaven,” he tells her. “And she’ll love this, thanks.”

“Ah, so you finally found out the big secret, huh?”

He nods. “It’s a lot better than what my friends wanted to name her.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. They were going to call her Lucky.”

That makes Nicole laugh.

One of the other parents takes a seat at the front of the group, and the kids gather. Heaven looks a little confused but follows Cara—completely trusting her new friend.

Bellamy excuses himself to find some food, bringing back two packets of the dried fruit. He gives one to Heaven who eagerly gnaws at it and pockets the other for later.

“You don’t look so good,” Nicole says when he sits back next to her.

He shrugs and plays with one of the holes in his pants. “I didn’t really get much sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

She’s quiet for a moment then says, “I heard about what happened in the mess yesterday. That was just awful. How can someone be so cruel?”

“Indra does what’s best for her people. Same as anyone.” That obviously doesn’t answer her question. Bellamy picks up the doll, twisting the yarn hair around his finger. This isn’t something he wants to discuss. “She hates me. For good reason.”

“I take it you’re not going to tell me about that?”

“No.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’d rather not ruin what respect you have for me.”

She considers that. Bellamy wonders how much she knows about what happened with Pike.

_You mean the treason?_

He needs to change the subject because he doesn’t like the way Nicole is frowning. She shouldn’t be frowning—it doesn’t look good on her. “So, how are you feeling?” He cringes at how stupid that sounds, but Nicole brightens up at his question—delighted to share more about her news.

“I had an appointment this morning. Dr. Griffith says the baby is right on target. Due in four months.”

He smiles. “That’s great. I’m sure you’ll do amazing with it. The whole two-kid thing.”

She shrugs, but he can see the contented smile on her face. “I’m just trying to get Cara prepared to share with the baby.”

Bellamy looks over to where the girls are passing Buttons back and forth, pretending to feed it Heaven’s food. “I think she’ll be okay.”

They both laugh. The kids listening to the story are already getting antsy so the mother skips to the end of the book. The children don’t seem to notice or care. When she calls, “the end,” they all jump up and start running around crazy while their parents chat. Heaven and Cara just sit in the middle of the circle with the doll.

_They’re all going to be fine._

_Heaven’s going to be fine._

_Without you._

As the other families clear out of the mess, Bellamy feels their eyes on him. The whispers prickling his skin. He should be used to it—he’s been feeling it since his mother and Octavia were arrested—but it still burns.

Nicole pats his shoulder. “They’re just curious.”

“They’re bored,” he tells her with more resentment than he’d meant. He rubs his face. “Sorry. No sleep.”

“No, you’re right.” She looks around at the milling adults. “They’re bored, and it’s better when the drama is happening to someone else.”

Bellamy huffs. “That’s why we have books and movies.”

Nicole just shakes her head. She obviously feels sorry for him, and her pity grates along with the whispers. He tries to ignore it all. “So what do you girls have planned for the rest of the day?”

She sighs, getting to her feet. “Packing and more packing. They’re moving us to new quarters.”

“Bigger with the baby coming?”

“Smaller.”

“Ouch.”

“We’ll make do. It’s only five years, right?” The smile she gives him is weak. He understands the skepticism, but he misses her optimism from yesterday.

He follows her over to the girls. Heaven perks up when he squats down in front of her. “Look what Nicole and Cara got you. You’re very own baby doll.”

Her eyes get big then she snatches it from his hands like she’s afraid he’ll change his mind. Cara starts babbling about how she helped her mom make the doll and its name is  _Rabbity Ann._

Nicole giggles. “Raggedy, Cara. Raggedy Ann. And Heaven can name it whatever she wants.”

_If she would talk._

Heaven just watches them for a moment before going back to petting the new toy. The look on her face eases Bellamy’s anxiety a little. She’s such a happy girl despite everything she’s been through.  _She’s resilient. She’ll be okay._ He repeats it over and over, hoping he’ll believe it eventually.

Murphy and the rest of the maintenance crew begin putting away the chairs and straightening the tables. Dragging a couple chairs from the circle, Bellamy leaves Heaven playing with Cara and Nicole to help.

Murphy tosses another to the side with a clank before stacking them all. “Heard you finally got her name.”

“You did, huh?”

He shrugs and helps Bellamy push a table over, the legs screeching along the metal deck. “Indra’s a total bitch.”

Bellamy actually laughs. Murphy’s got this stupid grin on his face, but he’s not looking at Bellamy—just doing his job. Bellamy doesn’t know what to do with Murphy anymore. Everything between them is complicated.

_Which happens when you’ve tried to kill each other more times than you can remember._

He’s not sure if he can consider the guy a friend, but he’s not quite the enemy anymore either.

“For the record,” Bellamy says as they finish, “Harper sided with you on the name. She voted for Lucky.”

Murphy shakes his head as he walks off, laughing. “I’ll remember that when I need some dirt on her later. Thanks.”

Bellamy’s smiling when he rejoins Nicole and the kids who are trading their dolls back and forth now.

“About this,” Nicole says as he approaches, running her fingers through Heaven’s disaster of a haircut. Her smile is pure amusement.

Bellamy cringes. “It was either that or dreadlocks. This was easier.”

She laughs. “I have a proposal.”

A few snarky lines come to mind, but he bites them back. He’s not trying to flirt with her. She’s married for god’s sake, and Bellamy’s- Well, Bellamy is something, and it’s not about dating. “Okay?” he asks cautiously.

“Jeff, my husband, works in Engineering, and they’re pulling double shifts all this week. I really need to get things moved by Saturday. So, I propose you help me with the boxes, and I’ll help you with this.” She waves dramatically at Heaven’s hair.

Cara starts dancing around. “Yes, yes. She can come play dolls with me. I have a crib and everything.”

Heaven gets up and starts jumping around too even though she has no idea what’s going on. It’s so frickin' adorable that he can’t say no.

Bellamy lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I don’t have anything else to do today.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nicole says, slugging his arm playfully.


	26. Treading On Dangerous Ground

Nicole’s quarters are on the far side of the station. As they walk, Cara attempts to teach Heaven how to skip. The younger girl tries enthusiastically but only manages to run, stop and hop with both feet. Cara finds it hilarious and keeps trying. When Bellamy glances at Nicole, she has a wistful smile on her face. _She’s a great mom._

“So where are they moving you to?” he asks as they turn the corner into one of the residential areas. Cara grabs Heaven’s hand and pulls her towards a door decorated with magnets.

Nicole punches in the lock code. “Only up one level. It shouldn’t be too hard of a move.”

Bellamy frowns. “B deck? That’s mostly single rooms.”

“I know.”

“They know you’re having another baby, right?”

She laughs. “Actually, we volunteered. With the influx of new Grounder families, they needed the extra space.”

Bellamy looks around the room—it’s about the size of the one he grew up in so he knows how crowded it is already with just three of them. Adding another child would have made things tight, but now they are moving to an even smaller one? That’s going to be rough with two kids.

Nicole must sense his disbelief. “Don’t worry, it’s only five years, right?” There’s still that hint of uncertainty in her voice, but she smiles. “It won’t be that bad. They’re opening one of the old conference rooms into a play area for the kids. We’ll manage.”

Bellamy nods. “I guess we all have to make sacrifices.” _Like sharing a room with Miller and Bryan._

Cara and Heaven situate themselves on one of the beds—a crib made from a century-old shoe box between them—while Nicole inspects the dozen or so packing crates scattered around the room.

_How did they get so much stuff?_ Bellamy never had anything growing up so he’s not sure what the typical amount of possessions might be, but this seems like a lot. Some of the boxes are full of half-dismantled equipment and scavenged knick-knacks. So stuff they found on the ground. And she did say her husband worked in engineering. _Makes sense._

“Where do we start?” he asks, clapping his hands together, momentarily forgetting his busted knuckles. _Damn_.

“What happened to your hand?” Nicole asks when he can’t hide the hiss of pain.

“Uh, would you believe I got into a fight with a wall?”

She snorts. “Probably. Doesn’t sound like a very good strategy in the long run. You pick a fight with one wall, and next thing you know, they’re ganging up on you. Those things are everywhere.”

Bellamy laughs—genuinely laughs—and it feels good. He’s thankful she doesn’t make a big deal about it like everyone else. That’s why he likes Nicole—she just takes everything in stride and doesn’t fuss at him. He’s had enough of the mother hen routine from Kane and Abby.

“These.” Nicole points to two boxes full of electronics. “Unless your hand-”

“It’s fine. I just won’t clap anymore.” That gets her laughing which lightens his mood even more. He lifts the two boxes which aren’t as heavy as they look but still kill his hand. He keeps his face straight because he has a feeling she’s watching him for evidence of his lie. She grabs another crate then tells Cara to stay on the bed. Heaven doesn’t even acknowledge him leaving. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Bellamy notices the stares after the second trip. Nicole’s neighbors stand in their doors or loiter in the hall, watching them with increasing levels of tension. It sets him on edge.

“Not everyone is as amicable about the move as us,” Nicole tells him when the whispering starts.

“You don’t say.”

Nicole sighs. “I won’t lie to you, Bellamy. People aren’t happy. They’re being forced out of their homes, however briefly they were here. The resentment is high. Some of them don’t think the Grounders belong here at all,” she says quietly, eyeing a middle-aged man at the end of the hall. “And they really don’t like you.”

_Tell me something I don’t know. Maybe she should talk to Kane. Bring him to his senses._

They make a couple more trips—Bellamy’s hand aching more with each run—before Nicole collapses into a chair. “We’re done.”

“What?” He looks around at the other boxes.

“These other ones are pretty heavy. Jeff can get some of his buddies to help him move them. Besides, we don’t have the space. He’ll have to store all this in engineering.”

“You sure?”

She glances at his hand with a wry grin. Bellamy shoves it under his arm, ducking his head to hide his smile. He really likes Nicole.

_Treading on dangerous ground there, aren’t you, dumbass? She’s married. And what about Clarke? And do you really need to get attached to someone else that will abandon you like everyone else?_

Bellamy grits his teeth and tries to ignore the voice no matter how right it is.

Nicole finds a pair of scissors in one of the remaining boxes then calls the girls over. Heaven stops short at the sight of them. She looks up at Bellamy—he’s not sure if she’s searching for reassurance or contemplating his murder. _Probably murder by the way she’s scowling. She’s adorable._

“It’s fine. Nicole’s just going to, uh, fix your hair because I was meant to be a tailor, not a barber apparently.”

“Tailor?”

“My mom was a seamstress. You need a button sewed or a hem shortened, I’m your guy. Been sewing since I was old enough to hold a needle and not stab myself in the eye.”

Her contagious laughter fills the room, making Bellamy smile. “You know, I’m going to hold you up on that when the new baby needs diapers.”

He sits Heaven on his lap, facing him, but she keeps swiveling her head, trying to see what Nicole’s doing. “See my problem?”

“Don’t worry; I got this.” Nicole moves back and forth with Heaven’s head like a pro until Cara distracts her with the dolls, keeping her focused in one direction.

“Let me guess, your father _was_ a barber?”

She just grins. A few minutes later she stands back with a “ta-da.”

Considering what she had to work with, she did a great job. It stops just below Heaven’s chin in the front and is shorter in the back. Nicole finishes it off with a barrette to pull the bangs from her face. It has a glittery butterfly on it. Heaven touches it gently, not sure what to make of it.

“Don’t, you look pretty,” he tells her. Cara brings the mirror over to show Heaven which just makes her pull out the barrette. Bellamy sighs, but Nicole just laughs.

“Keep it. Cara’s got more than enough,” she says as she cleans up. “Friends are always making them for her. She likes to collect stuff. Barrettes, magnets, lost little girls.”

_Kind of like the way you collect brothers and sisters._ He almost snorts out loud at that thought but catches himself. He can’t hide the smile, though.

The door suddenly bangs open, startling Heaven into tears. “Honey, I’m home.” A red-headed man strolls in, dropping a loaded box on the table.

“No,” Nicole says. “Absolutely not. Jeff-”

He silences her protest with a kiss. A deep one. Complete with dip and everything.

“Jeff!” Nicole squeals and slaps her husband’s arm. “We have guests. This is Bellamy and Heaven.”

He finally notices Bellamy, sheepishly setting Nicole on her feet. “Oh. Uh-” He reaches out a hand to Bellamy then spies the grease covering it and drops it. His eyes dart from Bellamy to Heaven, recognition dawning in his eyes. “Uh, sorry about that. Just haven’t been home much lately. We’ve been doing around-the-clock repairs. Raven’s a real slave driver.”

Cara takes that moment to launch off of the chair into her father’s arms. “Daddy!”

“Hey, pumpkin,” he says, nuzzling her neck.

Bellamy skirts around them towards the open door. “We should get going anyway. It’s almost nap time.”

The trio breaks apart. “It was nice meeting you, man. Uh, hey, don’t tell Raven about that slave driver thing. I don’t want to get put on sorting detail.”

Bellamy snorts. “Not a problem. I know how she gets.”

Jeff looks equally relieved and amused.

Bellamy feels almost content as he leaves Nicole’s quarters. It’s something he hasn’t felt often lately so it’s a little foreign. Heaven sits up in his arms, petting her doll. It makes him smile.

“Bae,” she says, lifting the doll right in his face. “Bae.”

“Baby?”

“Bae.”

His smile grows. “Okay, okay, we’ll call it Bae. She’s very pretty,” he tells her, “just like her mama.” He presses a soft kiss to her temple as she continues talking to the doll. The amount of contentment he feels scares him, but at the moment, he’ll take what he can get.


	27. Way More Drama Than I Can Deal With

“Bellamy!” someone shouts as he turns the corner into the public area of the station. Harper.

_Now what?_ “Yeah?”

“Hey, we’ve been looking for you. We called you on the radio.”

“I don’t have a radio.”

She snorts. “We eventually figured that out. Abby wants to see us in Medbay. Checkup.”

_Great_. He sighs, falling into step next to her. She fiddles with the bandages on her hands then shoves them under her arms when she catches him watching. She looks way too much like a kid for his taste—small and lost. He doesn’t like it. “How are you, Harper?” he asks. “Really?”

“Hands still hurt like a bitch but-” She trails off for a moment, thinking. “I’m alive so I guess I’m okay.”

He continues to watch her out of the corner of his eye. Her gaze is locked to the floor in front of them, brow furrowed. There’s a scar that runs down her jawline—pale against her tanned skin. _The tip of the iceberg._ With Harper, most of her scars are buried deep, hidden beneath the visible ones. He hates that he couldn’t protect her from that.

“Would you quit staring,” she blurts. “It’s creepy.”

“Sorry. I’m just-”

“I’m fine, Bellamy. Really. My hands will heal.”

He believes her—she probably does think she’s fine. Her face is still drawn, though. _Something’s bothering her._ “Are you and Monty-”

She groans. “Do you pester Miller about his relationship like this?”

Bellamy snorts. “No. That’s way more drama than I can deal with.”

“Oh, my God,” she says loudly. “I’m not the only one that sees it. They’re like a soap opera. It just proves it’s not the women that cause the drama.”

Hearing Harper laugh feels almost as good as hearing Clarke laugh. Harper’s tough. She’s been through so much and made it out the other side in relatively one piece. She’s going to be okay, and okay is good enough. It has to be because they have nothing else.

Harper’s attention slides from Bellamy to Heaven who’s swiveling her head back and forth, tracking the conversation. “Hey, there, cutie. Who’s your new friend?” She points at the doll.

Heaven looks at her baby then holds it up to Harper’s face. “Bae.”

Harper lights up with a bona fide grin. “She can talk?”

Bellamy tries to hide his guilty flinch—he’d been keeping that little tidbit of info to himself. “Sometimes. A word here or there.” _Liar, liar._

“That’s great. She’s settling in then.” Harper starts cooing over the doll, babbling to Heaven.

_Settling in. Right. That’s a good thing. Maybe. It means she’s going to be okay. It’s only been, what, a week? She’ll adjust to a new family in no time._

_But it’s not her you’re worried about._

Bellamy pushes the thoughts away. He’s not going to let it ruin his last days with her. “You wanna hold her?” he asks when he sees the way Harper melts whenever Heaven says a word. It’s a side of Harper he doesn’t get to see often enough.

“You think she’ll let me?”

“She likes you.”

Harper looks skeptical. “How can you tell.”

He just smiles and nudges Heaven toward Harper. The little girl hesitates a moment before reaching for Harper, settling easily in her arms. “Well, for one, you’re not Clarke, so-”

Harper laughs.

“Don’t tell Clarke I said that,” he tells her just to get her to laugh again. _It works._

Harper’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she jabbers to Heaven. _What is it about this kid that brings out the joy in everyone she meets?_

The doors to Medbay swoosh open as they turn the corner, and Bryan storms out, almost running into them. He mutters something resembling an apology without looking at them then stomps off.

“See what I mean,” Harper whispers. “Drama.”

Bellamy has to fight back a smile as they cross the room to where Miller is sitting on one of the exam tables.

“Hey, man, where you been?” Miller asks—his voice a little too measured to sound casual.

“Around I guess. It’s been-” He takes Heaven from Harper, setting her on the table. “-A long week.”

Miller eyes Heaven. “You can say that again.”

Heaven narrows her eyes, clutching her doll tighter. Bellamy remembers the scene in the dropship that first morning and situates himself between the two, trying not to smile. Miller doesn’t look like someone that wants to take a trip down that particular memory lane—better to keep them away from each other. _Safer for everyone involved, too._

Harper hops onto the table across from them. “We saw Bryan on our way in.”

_Really, Harper?_

“Your point?”

Harper puts on a good innocent act, but it’s obvious Miller sees right through it. “He looked a little upset. Just wondering if things are okay?” She shoots Bellamy a look.

Miller scowls. “Everything is fine. How are you and Monty—haven’t seen him around much.”

“We’re great,” she chirps.

Bellamy squeezes the bridge of his nose. “How’re the hands?” he asks Miller, trying to ward off an argument.

Miller glares once more at Harper before glancing at his hands like they’re foreign. He gives the same answer Harper did. “Fine.”

_Like you would say any different._

“That’s good to hear.” Bellamy doesn’t like how awkward things are between them. And not just because they have to share a living space the size of a matchbox. He thought they’d gotten through this—the distrust and wariness. _Guess not._

After a moment, Miller clears his throat. “So, um, everyone’s getting together tonight. You know, last hoorah before the end of the world.”

“I thought that was the other night.”

Miller laughs. “No that was just Jasper having an excuse to drink. Not that he needs an excuse.” He sounds tired. Too tired for eighteen. “So you in?”

“Yeah, you should come, Bellamy. We barely get to see you anymore,” Harper adds.

Bellamy furrows his brow. It’s been a while since he’s done anything with his friends besides eat lunch, and it would be nice to just hang out for once—watch them be kids for a few hours. Pretend he still is one. _But..._

He glances at Heaven who is petting her doll again. It’s almost like she senses his attention. She smiles up at him, and that contentment returns. “Can’t,” he tells Miller, “I’ve already got plans.”

“Aww.” Harper smiles, eyes misty. “That is so sweet.”

Miller is less amused. “Seriously? Just get someone to watch her.”

“Who? She screams if I leave her sight.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” his friend grumbles. Bellamy’s anger flares, but Miller cuts him off before he can respond. “I know you have this innate need to protect everyone, but she’s not your responsibility, Bellamy.”

“We weren’t his responsibility either,” Harper says softly.

“That was different.”

“How? Other than we’re nearly adults and she’s just a helpless little kid.”

“Whatever.” Miller glares at her.

The tension is ready to boil over and drown them all when Abby glides in, completely oblivious. “Oh, good, Bellamy, Harper, you’re here.” She tickles Heaven under the chin before moving her focus onto Miller.

“Nathan, your test results look good. The radiation is nearly gone from your system and the wounds are healing. You are free to go.” She pats his shoulder. “Harper, you’re next—we’ll get your hands rebandaged.”

Abby scuttles off to find supplies, leaving them stewing in the tension. Harper tugs at the unraveling fabric around her hands, avoiding looking at either of them. Miller glares at Bellamy. Bellamy glares right back until Miller jumps down from the table and grabs his jacket. “God, I can’t wait for her to find a family so we can get on with our lives.” He mutters some more as he stalks out, but Bellamy doesn’t catch what he says.

Harper gives him a sad smile just as Abby returns. “We don’t all feel that way, you know.”

Bellamy pulls Heaven into his lap, running a hand over her head. _His friends don’t get it._

_Of course they don’t—they’re just kids. They don’t want that kind of responsibility. They aren’t thinking about being parents._

He looks down at Heaven. Is that really what he wants? To be a parent?

_You know it is._

It’s getting harder and harder to deny that desire. It’s getting harder and harder to let go.


	28. There's More Going On

When she’s finally done with Harper, Abby wheels her supply cart over to their table. “You two are my last patients.” She grins. “Until the next catastrophe anyway.”

Bellamy laughs, but he feels her stress. It’s always one thing after another on the ground. If they go longer than a week without an emergency, he’s shocked.

Abby turns her smile to Heaven. “Well, don’t you look adorable. I love the hair.” Her fingers skim over Heaven’s head then she pulls back the bangs.

“Oh, here,” Bellamy says, fishing the barrette out of his pocket. He tries to clip back her hair, but Heaven takes it out almost immediately.

Abby goes still, sparking Bellamy’s anxiety. “What? What’s wrong?”

A second later, Abby shakes herself out. “Nothing. Everything’s fine. Just a memory from another time. They sneak up on you sometimes.”

Bellamy doesn’t know what she means, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it. His pulse slows now that his heart isn’t leaping into his throat. He needs to get a grip.

Heaven sits quietly, playing with Bae, while Abby cleans the few sores still left on her hands and legs where the jacket didn’t cover her. But when it’s time to check her face, she refuses to pull her gaze away from the doll. The more Abby tries to lift her chin to check her, the more Heaven fights to keep her eyes on Bae. Far from being frustrated, Abby just looks amused. Eventually, she gives up with an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, you’re almost completely healed,” she tells Heaven then smiles softly at Bellamy. “Probably because she didn’t get as much exposure. Thanks to you. You did a good job.”

Bellamy ducks his head. He wishes people would quit acting like he performed some kind of miracle. _I just did what anyone would do._

“And what about you?” she says as she caps the last swab from Heaven.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles.

Abby huffs. “Uh-huh. What happened to your eye?” She gently presses around his eyebrow. “Did Clarke stitch this up?”

“Yeah. How can you tell?”

“Her knots are still messy. And slanting to the left.” She finishes with his eye. “Nothing feels broken. So?”

He sighs at her continued prodding. “There was a fight in the yard the other day. It’s not a big deal.”

“You mean that near-riot? I patched up half a dozen people after that. Everything from open head wounds to broken arms.” She gives him that reproachful, maternal look that makes him feel like he’s twelve, getting scolded for coming home late.

“Well, I’m fine.”

He has a feeling she’s biting back a lecture, but eventually, she returns to cleaning the burn marks on his face and arms. Most have scabbed over, but a few are still open and sore.

“These look worse—irritated. Have you been scratching at them?” she asks as she swabs a couple of the rawest ones on his neck.

Bellamy thinks of all the times Heaven’s little arms wrapped around his neck or her fingers pulled at the hair there. “Must be my jacket rubbing.

She finishes putting up the samples. “Well, you’re both looking good. The wounds are healing, and there’s no sign of infection. There’s just one last thing I need.” She pulls out a set of tubes and a syringe. “I have to take some blood samples to check your radiation levels. Should be quick-”

Heaven is already eyeing the needles. _Well, this isn’t going to end well at all._ Bellamy stays completely still as Abby draws his blood, hoping to convince Heaven to remain calm, but when Abby turns to her, she backs away, nearly falling off the table.

“It’ll be okay,” he tells her. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

Heaven just glares—at him, at the needle, at Abby, at the world in general. Bellamy can’t imagine she’s ever had her blood drawn before, but she’s too smart for their goading. She clutches Bae and shakes her head emphatically.

Abby smiles, patting Heaven’s leg softly. “It’s okay—we can try another time. Considering how quickly the wounds are healing, I’m sure her levels are lowering just as fast. She might process radiation even better than you.”

Heaven finally relaxes—going back to playing with her doll—when Abby starts cleaning up her supplies, but she sits as close to Bellamy as she can without actually being in his lap.

With Heaven occupied, Abby turns her attention to Bellamy. “And how are you? Have you been handling thinks okay?”

The look she’s giving him says don’t patronize me. Bellamy swallows hard. _What does she want me to say?_ He’s not even sure how he is. “Really, Abby, I’m fine.”

She frowns. “You’re eating.”

It isn’t even a question. _Yes, Mom. Geesh._ “I’ve been eating as much as anyone. I swear.”

Abby doesn’t look completely convinced, and he has a feeling she’s going to ask around to see if he’s lying or not, but she drops the subject at least. “And sleeping?”

He sighs. “Usually when Heaven naps.” He doesn’t tell her about the nightmares because those are nothing new. He needs to give her something, though, so she’ll stop pestering him. “My head’s been hurting.”

Her concern ratchets a notch. “For how long?”

_Since we landed on the ground. Since I learned the world was ending again. Since I found Heaven and another reason to worry about everything._ “A few days. It comes and goes.” Like whenever he thinks of Heaven leaving.

“That’s understandable, considering.” Abby unlocks the medicine cabinet and pulls out a bottle of painkillers. “No complaining. Take one when the pain worsens. Promise.”

She’s killing him. He takes the offered pills. “I will.”

“Trust me,” she says, glancing at Heaven. “Being a parent is a lot easier when your head isn’t pounding.”

Bellamy’s face heats up, but thankfully, Abby’s locking up the cabinet. _Is it that obvious?_

_Yes._

He groans softly, hopping off the table with Heaven in his arms. “Thanks, Abby. I’ll let you know if the headache gets worse.” _That should appease her for a while, right?_

She cocks an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

_Or not._

The voice laughs at him.

“If you need anything, Bellamy. Anything—just ask. There are people that want to help you. Let us.”

He can’t get out of Medbay fast enough but is nearly bowled over at the door as several people stumble in, carrying someone between them. The man’s face is a mess of cuts and bruises, his eyes swelled shut, nose obviously broken.

“What happened?” Bellamy asks as they heave him onto the table.

“What do you think happened,” one of them shouts back. “The Grounders got to him.”

Bellamy frowns. “Why would the Grounders-”

“Because they’re Grounders. Savages. All they understand is war.”

Kane rushes in before Bellamy can ask anything else. He gives Bellamy a questioning look like he’s wondering if this means Bellamy’s ready to take the job. Bellamy spins on his heel and gets as far from Medbay as he can before Kane can get the wrong idea.

_Except, is it the wrong idea?_

Now Bellamy is thinking about it. It’s not like he didn’t see this coming—he knew the Grounders would retaliate for the incident in the yard—but something about it all isn’t sitting right with him. _Savages_. The same word Tyson used. He wants to think it’s a coincidence. He wants to believe their people are above the eye-for-an-eye mentality, but he knows it’s not true. Not by a long shot. If anything, they have a lot more in common with the Grounders than they’d care to admit.

There’s more going on—he can feel it but has no idea if he can prove it. Not before the kettle boils over and they rip each other apart.

_Five years? They aren’t going to make it five months._


	29. Just Go See Her

Once again, Bellamy finds himself wandering the halls of the station with no idea where to go. The claustrophobia is unsettling. Heaven waves the doll in front of him, pulling him from thoughts of attacks and being trapped. She’s so gentle and… normal. He’s never seen grounder children play with toys. Of course, he hasn’t seen many grounder children at all. _It’s like they mysteriously sprout into adults._

He wonders what things will be like for them in the Ark. They won’t need to fight to survive. Or hunt. Starving’s still an option, though. There won’t be any wars if Bellamy has anything to do with it. They could go to school and make friends and just be kids. He looks down at Heaven, mumbling to her doll. It’s what he wants for her. _What she deserves._

Logically, his head also understands she deserves those things with a stable home no matter what his heart wants. And as Raven pointed out, he had a tendency to put his life at risk without any thought. That is not a stable home.

_You can’t give her what she needs. Which is two loving parents. Or, you know, the one parent she started out with. But you took that from her._

The sick feeling is back, churning in his gut. He squeezes Heaven, getting a huge smile from her then she lays her little head on his shoulder, thumb in her mouth, Bae tucked under her other arm. He hates how right this feels with her in his arms. How whole he feels for the first time in a long time. _Because it’s going to end. Sooner than later. And it’s going to hurt._

“We’ll figure it out, kiddo. You’re going to be okay.” She has to be or there isn’t any point to surviving another apocalypse.

_Isn’t that morbid._

Bellamy stops, scrubbing a hand over his face. This line of thought is getting him nowhere. He’s only got a short time left with her, and he wants to enjoy every moment he can. Obsessing over things he can’t control doesn’t help either of them. He lets out a long breath, getting Heaven’s attention. She turns her face to him, switching thumbs, freeing up the other hand to play with his hair.

Bellamy kisses her forehead. “You always knows exactly what I need, don’t you?”

She tugs on his curls in response, making him laugh and hug her tighter. She’s definitely worth the pain.

_You’re going to regret this._

He ignores the voice and finally takes a look around. They’ve been wandering for a good twenty minutes—he’s surprised to find himself a lot closer to Clarke’s quarters than his own. That probably means something.

_That you’re desperate?_

_No._

_Lonely?_

_Maybe._

It only takes them a minute to reach Clarke’s corridor. Bellamy waits at the far end, not sure what to do. His heart is screaming, “just go see her,” but then he remembers how he blew her off yesterday when she tried to comfort him. Shame spreads through his body, heating his skin. _I’m such an idiot._ He’s been trying for months to get Clarke to talk to him about what happened in the City of Light. It kills him that she keeps it all locked up, and the moment their roles are reversed, he pushes her away.

_How can I expect Clarke to open up if I won’t do the same?_

At the least, he owes her an apology. Still, he can’t seem to get his legs moving. Bellamy just stares down the hall like a stalker until Heaven starts to squirm impatiently in his arms.

_This is stupid._ He managed to talk to Harper and Miller without any problems. Abby and Nicole, too. And she’s Clarke. She’s, what, his best friend? He’s always thought so. She centers him. He made it pretty clear that without her he’s a disaster. A dangerous one.

The voice sighs in frustration. _Just go over there and ring the bell. Quit being a baby. She didn’t mind yesterday when you just dropped by._

_She was just doing her doctor thing._

_You got her to blush, dumbass. She likes you._

He’s not entirely sure about that, but the memory pulls at the corners of his mouth. She did blush. And she had her hand on his knee. Besides, Clarke wouldn’t hold the brush-off against him. She hasn’t held anything against him yet.

“What do you think?” Bellamy asks Heaven. “Should we go see Clarke? I bet she has more crayons for you.” Heaven cocks her head to one side than the other like she thinks he’s being completely ridiculous.

_Because you are._

“Fine,” he tells the voice then to Heaven, “let’s go see Clarke.”

He barely makes it two steps before Clarke’s door opens. He freezes, suddenly uncertain again. When Niylah steps out, carrying her jacket and looking happy, Bellamy’s stomach twists. _Crap._

He darts out of sight, heart pounding. He never anticipated this. Why didn’t he anticipate this? He peeks back around the corner. Clarke leans casually against the door frame, chatting. Niylah’s hand rests on her arm in a very intimate way that makes Bellamy ill and more than a little resentful. _This isn_ _’t fair._

After a few moments, Clarke leans in to hug Niylah, the touch lingering as Niylah walks away. Bellamy does an about-face. He can’t deal with this. Not now. Maybe not ever.

_Coward._

Bellamy wants to scream and throw a tantrum because he can’t win. Not the most mature reaction. He lets out a slow breath when he realizes Heaven’s caught on his mood. She watches him with a frown for a moment then starts twirling his hair again.

It should comfort him, but the knot in his stomach just tightens. _She_ _’ll be gone soon. Then what?_ He can’t count on Clarke being there. Or his friends. Or Octavia. There isn’t anyone left.

He blinks away the sting of tears because he’s not going to cry over this. In the hall. Like an idiot. He needs to get a grip.

With nowhere else to go, Bellamy heads back to his own quarters. Miller and Bryan, thankfully, aren’t there. He shoves their stuff into the corner then helps Heaven in the bathroom. When they’re done, she climbs onto the bed, dragging Clarke’s book with her.

Bellamy drops down next to her with a tired sigh and kicks off his boots. His socks have holes in the heels and toes. Heaven starts taking off her own shoes, struggling with the laces. Bellamy undoes them before she can turn them into knots then digs through his dresser, looking for something.

Clarke might have first aid supplies, but Bellamy’s mother was a seamstress. He pulls out a needle and thread then sits at the desk, fixing one of his socks. Something he’s been doing since he was at least seven. Heaven settles on the bed with her doll and the book, babbling away in Grounder. Bellamy only recognizes some of the words which are stilted by her toddler vocabulary. But it’s obvious she’s reading to Bae.

_What the hell am I going to do without her?_

_Well, you won_ _’t be worrying constantly for one._

_Yeah, right._ He knows he’s never going to stop worrying about her. And it’ll be worse when she’s gone because he won’t be able to protect her. He finishes the second sock and presses his hands into his burning eyes.

_Told you not to get attached._

After a while, Heaven comes over, book in hand. Bellamy takes a deep breath. “You wanna read?”

She holds the book up to him in answer.

“Okay, then.” They get comfortable on the bed, Heaven pressed close to his side. This time he only reads the book twice before she’s gently snoring into his chest. He snuggles down with her, hand skimming over her hair, and lets himself drift to sleep.


	30. Getting Us Nowhere

_The freezing rain is like thousands of daggers nicking every inch of exposed skin. He shivers uncontrollably, teeth chattering. Or maybe that’s the adrenaline. Screams fill the valley, mingling with the staccato bursts of gunfire. The tent next to him is burning—acrid smoke stinging his nose and making his eyes water. The flames dance in the night but offer no warmth._

_This is wrong._

_He struggles to maintain a grip on his rifle in the rain. His finger slips from the trigger. But it's not raining. Blood covers his rifle. His clothes. The ground. Everything._

_So very wrong._

_It’s for the greater good, a voice whispers in his head. They would have attacked eventually. We weren’t safe._

_He’s not so sure anymore. There’s just so much blood. It rains from the night sky. He stumbles around the bodies and pushes back the flap of a tent to find a man too injured to walk. The man begs. Not for him. For the child cradled in his arms. She clutches a doll, face coated in blood, eyes staring blankly._

_Bang_.

Bellamy jerks awake, gasping for air. _Oh god_. Pain explodes behind his eyes. _Wasn’t real. Wasn’t real. Wasn’t real._ The image is burned into his memory anyway.

 _Bang_.

He jumps, heart pounding in his head. It takes him a moment to realize the pounding is actually someone at the door. He forces his breathing to even out before he pries his eyes open. Heaven is staring at him, wide-eyed but not scared. Just confused. He rolls off the bed at the next knock and pulls the door open a crack.

There’s a guard on the other side—one of the younger ones. Bellamy thinks his name is Ivan.

“What?” he asks, voice rough from sleep.

The kid looks him up and down, mouth set in a tight line. “Chancellor Kane wants to see you in his office.”

Bellamy’s head hits the edge of the door with a groan. _What now?_

“He also told me to give you this so he doesn’t have to send out a search party every time he needs you. His words.” He holds out a walkie.

Bellamy glares at it a moment before taking it. The kid leaves without another word. Bellamy collapses onto the bed, head in his hands. _What does Kane want now?_ His heart leaps into his throat again as he glances down at Heaven. _No_.

She blinks back, head cocked.

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing his heart rate back to a normal pace. The meeting could be about a hundred things, and at the moment, he’d welcome it being about Kane’s stupid job offer. Heaven lays her head on his leg and plays with one of the holes in his pants. Just that little contact calms him enough to breathe again.

_Could be about anything. Keep it together, Blake._

They take their time washing up—if this are the last moments with her then Kane can wait. While Heaven is pretending to brush Bae’s teeth, Bellamy pops open the small container of pills Abby gave, swallowing one dry. He did promise her, and he has a feeling his headache is going about to get worse one way or another.

Bellamy hears the raised voices from Kane’s office before they get close. He pauses at the door to evaluate the situation. Kane and Abby are on one side of the room, arms crossed over their chests. Indra and Octavia fill the rest of the space, hands on their hips—close to their weapons. _Shit_. His lungs momentarily forget how to breathe.

“Finally,” Kane says, waving him in. “You get the radio?”

He holds it up. “Message received.” He has no choice but to squeeze in to shut the door. He lifts Heaven into his arms, her fingers going into his hair. She knows something is going on again. Of course, a bunch of adults yelling at each other is always scary. He forces down the lump in his throat. “What’s going on?”

“Indra was just updating us on some things.”

Bellamy looks between them, unable to speak.

“There have been a rash of attacks against Trikru over the past week.”

“It’s gotten worse in the last few days,” Octavia adds. “Two early this morning.”

“And there have been attacks on our side as well,” Kane informs them, face hard.

Indra isn’t the least bit intimidated. “Retaliation.”

“Of course it is.”

Bellamy feels like he’s watching a tennis match, his head flicking back and forth between the two as they continue to posture. This is his definition of Hell. He glances over at Octavia. She scowls at the floor like it offended her somehow. He wishes she would look up so he could get a read on her.

Kane leans against his desk with a weary sigh. “This is getting us nowhere. We knew there would be problems; that’s why we’ve divided the station as best we can—space is tight for everyone, and it’s going to be like this for years. We’re going to have to find a way to get along.”

_Getting along might be asking too much. Maybe start with not killing each other._

“And if we can’t?” asks Indra.

“Then they can leave,” Bellamy says, knowing the conversation is about to spiral out of control. Indra looks like she could shoot daggers and before anyone gets murdered, Bellamy takes a breath. “What I mean is that being here is a choice. For all of us. If anyone—Skaikru, Trikru or any of the other clans—isn’t one hundred percent committed to making this work then they’re free to go while they have the chance.”

“That would be certain death,” Abby says.

“And if a war starts after the doors are closed,” Octavia adds, not looking up from the floor, “even more will die.”

_Is she agreeing with me?_

Kane rubs both hands over his face. “Hard choices are going to have to be made, but the survival of the human race is at stake. On the Ark, as now, resources were finite. Survival was paramount. We did things—I did things I wished I hadn’t needed to do, and I fear that’s what we must return to.”

Octavia finally looks up. “Floating people for every little crime.” Her voice is full of resentment and anger built on grief. Bellamy knows the feeling well.

“Octavia,” Kane starts, but Indra cuts him off.

“No, Kane is right. The few for the many. Sacrifices must be made.”

Kane lets out a breath that Bellamy suspects is relief. “I’m not suggesting we execute people for every crime. No one wants a return to that, but in the end-” He furrows his brow, obviously conflicted.

Bellamy takes a deep breath. “If you can’t play by the rules then you can leave. Either by choice or force.”

 _I told you it would come to this_ , the voice reminds him. _You are no different than Kane._

_It won_ _’t be the same because we won’t be killing people for petty things or their first offense. It can’t be the same—we have to learn from our mistakes or we don’t deserve to survive._

Indra considers this. “That is acceptable. And what of these attacks now?”

“We’re looking into it,” Kane tells her. “Bellamy is our head of security. I assure you he’s capable of finding the culprits.”

Bellamy shoots Kane and angry glare. _What the hell? I don_ _’t remember taking that job yet._ He grinds his teeth until Heaven yanks on his hair, calming him.

Indra turns her full attention on him, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to cringe away from her fierce look. _God, she hates me._ “And you’re going to hunt down these troublemakers?”

Bellamy bites his lip, frowning. “The attacks appear to be coming from both sides, but I have a hunch on who’s instigating. The Farm Station survivors are still angry. They were causing trouble in the yard-”

“Trouble in the yard,” Octavia interrupts with a huff. “You mean that mob that nearly killed two Grounders?”

“Grounders you still have locked in your stockade,” Indra adds.

“Well,” Kane says, glancing at Bellamy, “my head of security’s been on a leave of absence this week.”

Bellamy wants to punch him. _Why is he doing this to me?_ Heaven seems to sense the shift of tension. She tightens her grip on his neck, fingers twisting faster and faster in his hair.

“Yes.” Indra purses her lips like she tasted something sour. “I’ve been inquiring with families from her village, but there’s been reluctance to take her in.”

“Why?” Abby asks. “There’s no need to worry about rations. All children under ten receive three rations daily. It won’t be food out of-”

“It isn’t that,” Indra says.

When she doesn’t elaborate Octavia snorts. “They think she’s cursed.”


	31. Cursed

“Cursed?” asks Abby. “Why would they think that?”

Indra frowns. “My people are very superstitious, and this girl is nothing but bad luck.”

Bellamy’s whole body tenses. _How could they say that? She’s a little girl for crying out loud._

“Apparently,” says Octavia, “people around her tend to die. They believe anyone that interacts with her will meet the same end.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Bellamy says before he can stop himself. “Why would they think that?”

“From what we’ve gathered there have been a number of mysterious deaths attributed to her. Her mother died in childbirth then the midwife disappeared. Another that wandered too close to their house was found dead days later. Her father, himself, died young. And the woman entrusted with her care after that perished in the City of Light.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “That’s all circumstantial. She wasn’t responsible for her mother’s death or what happened in the City of Light. She wasn’t responsible for any of that.”

Octavia shrugs. “To them, it all adds up to a curse.”

_Am I really going to leave Heaven to be raised by these people? Curses and revenge ideology. It’s insane._

_Are we really any better, though?_

He thinks so. _At least we don’t blame toddlers for things outside of their control._

Indra’s glare scorches his skin. “I will widen the search to families outside of her village. I am confident we will find a suitable home in time. Until then-” She narrows her eyes—that sour look back.

Bellamy holds his breath. A cold sweat breaks out down his back, and his insides twist into a painful knot. He has a nearly uncontrollable urge to bolt. But there’s nowhere to go so he stands, unable to breathe.

Abby pushes past Kane to stand between Bellamy and Indra. “Until then, it would be in Heaven’s best interest to stay near the infirmary. She’s not fully recovered from her exposure to the Black Rain and requires observation.”

“She should stay with Bellamy,” Octavia says suddenly.

That gets everyone’s attention. Bellamy’s eyes bug out. _Did she really just say that? Did she just side with me?_

Indra’s nostrils flare as she turns to Octavia.

Octavia shows no fear. “For the time being. If this is truly about the girl’s well-being then she should stay where she’s settled for now.”

 _That sounds like a challenge._ Bellamy has no idea what to make of it.

“I agree,” Abby says. “Moving from home to home while looking for a permanent place would only hamper her development. She needs something stable.”

 _And you’re not stable,_ the voice reminds him. _Far from it._

Bellamy hugs Heaven a little tighter. She lays her head on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck while her fingers continue to twist his hair.

Indra grunts a reluctant approval. “I will be in contact about these attacks, Kane. Hopefully, we can find a solution before things get out of control.” She leaves with a flourish of her coat.

Bellamy ducks out after her before Kane can start pressuring him about the job again. After the narrow escape with Heaven, he’s not sure he can take any more abuse. His heart isn’t strong enough.

_You know you’re going to take the job so why wait? Just get it over with already so you can move on with your life._

He glances down at Heaven sucking her thumb. She looks up at him with a soft smile. _That’s why I’m waiting._

_You don’t want to move on with your life._

_No._

Octavia surprises him by waiting outside the door. He’s not sure what to say or do around her that won’t spook her so he stays quiet and waits. She cocks her head then lets out a breath before speaking. “Head of security, huh? When did that happen?”

Bellamy’s face flames up. “It hasn’t,” he mumbles. “Kane is insane.”

Octavia actually laughs. “Is it that crazy of an idea?”

He doesn’t have a reply for that. _Is she complimenting me? She thinks I’d make a good Commander? Is she insane, too?_

_Probably. The ground makes everyone a little insane._

Bellamy clears his throat. “Thanks for backing me up in there. About Heaven. I really appreciate it.”

Octavia looks away. “You’re good with kids, and she seems to like you. Easy call.”

“Yeah, but-”

“You really think Farm Station has something to do with the attacks?”

Bellamy licks his lips, thankful for the change of subject. “The survivors of the crash, yeah. I don’t have any proof, though.”

“Your hunches are usually pretty good.”

He snorts. “My instincts are questionable at best. Usually, I screw everything up.”

“Bell-”

“We both know it’s true.”

Octavia sighs. “The pity-party is getting old.”

 _What does that mean?_ Bellamy shoves his hand through his hair, wincing as pain flares across his knuckles. “I don’t want to fight, O. Can we please not fight?”

Octavia spins on her heel and walks away. Bellamy hurries to catch up, heart in his throat. _See—took about five seconds to screw up this conversation. What is wrong with me?_

“Are you going to take the job?” she asks before he can say anything.

Bellamy sighs. He’s not sure if it’s relief or frustration. “I don’t think I have a choice. He threatened to fire me from the Guard if I didn’t. Although, at the moment, being a tailor isn’t sounding half bad. Less stress.”

She gives him a skeptical look. “All you’ve ever wanted was to be a guardsman.”

“To keep you safe. If I was on the Guard, I could get assigned to our block so when it was inspection time-”

She puts a hand up. “You loved it. You were good at it. You’re still good at it.”

He’s so confused. “O, what are you-”

“I think you should take the job,” she says after a moment.

Bellamy nearly trips over his own feet. “Really?”

She lets out a long, tired breath. “You’re already investigating these attacks, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Because you can’t let it go. You’ll never let it go. You have this innate need to keep everyone safe.”

Bellamy snorts. “Well, I suck at it.”

“I’m still here.”

“You don’t need me to protect you. You haven’t needed me for a long time.” He hates how bitter he sounds. Octavia’s independence is a good thing.

Octavia slows as they get to an intersection of halls. “Maybe not, but there are always others.” She not-so-subtly glances at Heaven.

Bellamy’s throat closes up.

“Indra won’t let you keep her. She’d raise her herself before she’d let that happen.”

Tears sting his eyes, but he blinks them away. “I know.”

“I know you, Bell, and I can see you’re already attached. You need to be ready to let go.”

“Why are you telling me this?” God, his heart hurts thinking about this stuff.

Octavia doesn’t answer. “If I hear anything more about the attacks, I’ll let you know.” Then she’s gone.

Bellamy doesn’t know what to think. They had a whole conversation without her once looking disgusted, but she had to drive that knife in deep.

 _She_ _’s trying to help you. She knows this is going to hurt._

He shakes his head. He wants to believe that. Desperately needs to believe that she cares, but there’s a part of him that thinks she still wants revenge. Still wants him to suffer.

 _She said you_ _’d make a good Commander. That you’re a good father._

 _She did not. I_ _’m not. That didn’t happen._

His insides are a mess of churning acid and tight knots as he heads to the mess hall for breakfast. He has an overwhelming feeling that his day is only going to go downhill from here. It’s a scary thought.


	32. Drama Queens

Bellamy’s mind races through everything that was said at the meeting—attacks and curses and Octavia being strangely supportive. He can’t make sense of it all. One fact keeps jumping to the front, waving its arms for attention—“ _Indra won’t let you keep her._ ” It’s not that he didn’t already know that, but hearing it said out loud is a punch to the gut.

Despite this ridiculous curse, Indra will find someone to take Heaven. If only to spite Bellamy. _What am I going to do then?_

_Move on with your life like everyone else. It’s not rocket science._

He almost laughs at the voice, but nothing about his life or this situation is funny.

Heaven twists his hair harder as they enter the mess hall. Bellamy trains his eyes on the ground to avoid the curious gazes and gets in line behind two middle-aged women whispering to each other. Every few seconds they glance over their shoulders. He sighs, focusing on his boots like they are the most fascinating thing in the room. Heaven isn’t so laid back.

After the third or fourth sneer at them, Heaven raises her head, glaring hard at the women. They stare back, unblinking.

_Who has staring competitions with toddlers?_

He’s about to tell them to mind their own business when Heaven clutches Bae tighter and sicks out her tongue. It’s such a normal child thing to do that it catches Bellamy off guard. The women, too. Several people around them snicker until the women stomp off without any food.

There’s oatmeal with dried apple slices for breakfast. Or what passes as oatmeal around here. It’s not as bad as some of the stuff they’re served. He sets Heaven at a table in the corner and gives his apples to her. She licks each slice on every side before nibbling the end of one. Bellamy just plays with his food, unable to eat.

_Why does this have to be so hard?_ He knows the answer—he just doesn’t like it. The hollowness growing in his heart aches, making him sick. Heaven hums a random tune while pretending to feed oatmeal to Bae who seems about as enthused as Bellamy about the food. He smiles despite his foul mood then presses a kiss to the top of her head because he can’t resist her. She smiles up at him, motioning for him to take a bite.

Bellamy shakes his head. “I’m not really hungry.”

She narrows her eyes then fills her own spoon, lifting it to his mouth. Bellamy sighs, knowing there’s no reasoning with her, and takes a bite. It takes an extraordinary measure to swallow. They continue to eat in silence. Well, Heaven eats while Bellamy forces down a spoonful any time Heaven looks over at him.

Eventually, Jasper plops down across from them with a groan. Heaven eyes him for a moment then pulls everything—apples, bowl and spoon close to her. _She has a good memory apparently._

Jasper doesn’t notice. He just lays his head on his arms and moans.

“Long night?” Bellamy asks.

“Too short,” Jasper mumbles. “Still is broken. Sobering up. Shoot me.”

“It’s the end of the world for you every day isn’t it, Jasper,” Bellamy says flatly.

“But this really might be the end!”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, catching Monty stumble to a stop across the room. He looks from Bellamy to Jasper then around the room like he can’t decide if he wants to join them or not. Things between Jasper and Monty haven’t been right since Mt. Weather. It’s painful to watch. Monty takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders before approaching slowly—an obviously forced smile plastered on his face. “Morning,” he says too cheerfully, setting down his bowl and apples next to Jasper.

“Hey,” Bellamy says then stuffs a reluctant spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth so no one expects him to talk. He hates being caught between his two friends, but he doesn’t know what to say to make things better. _There’s probably nothing I can say. Jasper is still hurting too much._

Monty plays with his food, shooting nervous glances at Jasper. “Are you okay? You look sick,” he finally asks.

Jasper mutters something into the table.

“He’s fine,” Bellamy tells Monty, “just hungover.”

“And it’s all your fault,” Jasper grumbles. His head pops up to glare at Monty. “Your fault because you’ve been too busy to keep an eye on the still and now it’s broke.”

Bellamy shakes his head, spoon halfway to his mouth. “I told you, Jasper, Kane’s going to shut it down anyway. Might as well get used to it.” _Or more accurately, he’ll get me to do it because that’s apparently my job now._

“Fuck that.”

“Jasper,” Monty hisses when people look over.

“What? I don’t care what they think.” He glances around at the curious faces. “They can mind their own damn business if they don’t like what I have to say.” His voice gets louder and louder with each word, catching Heaven’s attention. She frowns at Jasper.

Bellamy sighs. “That’s enough, Jasper. Calm down.”

“I think I’m the appropriate amount of calm considering the situation.”

Harper suddenly appears next to the table—her clothes soaked through, hair stuck to the sides of her face. “Oh, quit being such a drama queen, Jasper. You’ll sober up and learn to survive on your excessive supply of jobi nuts.”

“Whatever. They won’t last long if I have to share.” He shoots Harper an accusing look then pouts.

Harper laughs, sliding an arm around his shoulders. “You’re going to survive the apocalypse and you’re going to like it, young man,” she says in her sternest voice.

Jasper shoves her away. “Get off, you’re all wet.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when it rains.” She leans over Jasper to kiss the top of his head, making sure her hair dangles in his face before sitting next to Monty. She pecks him on the cheek then steals one of his apple slices.

“You were outside?” Monty squeaks. “I thought everyone was restricted to inside now.” He looks from Harper to Bellamy for some kind of confirmation.

“The doors haven’t been locked yet,” Bellamy says, stabbing his food with the spoon.

Harper shrugs. “Someone has to watch the engineers that are fixing the station. We haven’t seen much movement in days, but there are still dangers out there.” She points at Heaven with her apple. “Case in point.”

“But why you?”

“I volunteered.”

“What?” Monty’s voice is shrill. “Why? It’s dangerous!”

“It’s just rain,” Harper says then lowers her voice to murmur in his ear. “Besides, now you can help me out of these wet clothes.”

Bellamy looks away, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. Harper is too much like a sister to watch her flirt that way.

“Nice.” Jasper holds a hand up waiting for his friend to respond. “Come on, man, don’t leave me hanging.”

Monty stares at his food then slides it over to Harper. “You can have the rest—I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

“Ooh, rejected,” Jasper says to Harper, his hand still in the air.

Harper glares at him. “Stay out of this.”

Heaven’s head swivels back and forth between the three, mouth half full of oatmeal. She can’t understand them, but can obviously tell by their tones that something is wrong. Bellamy rubs at the pain between his eyes. “Guys, come on. Not here.”

“You know what—I’ve got some work to do in engineering. See you guys later,” Monty mumbles as he gets up, ignoring Harper’s hand on his arm.

“Monty, don’t be like that,” she calls after him, but he doesn’t come back.

“Yikes,” says Jasper. “Talk about a drama queen.” He reaches for Monty’s discarded breakfast. “If you aren’t going to eat this.”

Harper jumps up, chair screeching across the floor. “Get bent, Jasper.” She storms off in the opposite direction as Monty.

Jasper just shrugs and starts eating Monty’s oatmeal. Bellamy sighs, rubbing his face. Sometimes he really misses the dropship. Sure there were Grounders trying to kill them all of the time, but they were working together. Like a family. He isn’t sure what they are now.

With another weary sigh, he gathers Heaven’s uneaten apples. “We should get going, too.”

Heaven looks annoyed but takes his hand as they leave the mess hall. He doesn’t actually have anywhere to be, but he can’t listen to Jasper’s ranting anymore.


	33. Helpless

There’s a bathroom at one end of the mess hall where they stop to clean Heaven up. Bellamy lets her splash in the sink while he wipes down her face and arms. _How did she get oatmeal in her ears_? Heaven fusses, turning her face away whenever he gets near her, but eventually he manages to get her clean then washes his own hands and face.

“Better, huh?”

She holds her doll up. “Bae?”

She’s about to dunk the doll into the partially filled sink when Bellamy finally understands what she wants. He dips his hand in the water and gently wipes at Bae’s face then dries it with the corner of his shirt. “Now Bae is clean, too.”

Heaven beams and hugs the doll, running for the door. _Guess she’s ready to go. But go where_?

As they leave the bathroom, the station trembles ever so slightly—different from the normal vibrations of the power and air recyclers. Bellamy frowns when the lights flicker. Heaven just stares at them until they stay on again. She looks to Bellamy for something—an explanation maybe?

Bellamy just shrugs. “How about we go for a walk? Maybe go find Raven.” _I need an update on repairs. But not because I’m head of security; I’m just curious._ The voice snorts. Bellamy frowns again. It’s hopeless and he knows it. Kane will make him take this job because he’s right—Bellamy just can’t let go of control. He sighs and takes Heaven’s hand. “Let’s go.”

They’re only halfway to engineering when entire station shudders, rattling loose wiring and pipes. The lights flicker again, getting the attention of an older couple apparently out for a morning stroll as well.

“What’s going on?” the man asks. His wife fiddles with the pearls around her neck.

“It’s just a storm. Nothing to worry about,” Bellamy tells them with as much confidence he can muster.

“Storm?” the wife squeaks.

Bellamy smiles. “The regular kind—I promise. I’m on my way to engineering to see about the lights. Everything is fine.”

They don’t exactly look reassured, but the man takes the woman’s hand and guides her away. Just as they turn the corner, thunder booms, shaking everything. Heaven presses her hands over her ears, moving closer to Bellamy. A light fixture above Bellamy pops, showering them with sparks and leaving them in the dark. The other lights flicker for a moment then go out all at once. _Great_.

Bellamy finds the closest wall, keeping one hand on it as he walks. Heaven clings to his pant leg but isn’t crying. _Yet_.

He really wishes he’d thought to keep a flashlight on him—there are a couple in the security office. He considers going back to find one until more thunder rumbles. Each blast feels closer than the last.

Pulling the radio from his belt, he toggles over to the channel for engineering. “Hey, Raven?”

It’s several seconds before she answers. “I’m kind of busy turning the lights back on right now. What do you want?”

Bellamy grins. “Any idea when that will be?”

“No idea. Looks like the lightning took out a transformer on the outside of the station. I’m sending some people over to fix it, but this storm is getting worse. I don’t know how long they’ll be able to stay out there.” She sounds exhausted.

“Outside? Won’t that be a prob-”

“Bellamy, just let me handle the lights—you keep us from killing each other, okay?” There’s a loud bang and shouts from her end. Raven groans. “I have to go.”

“Okay. Just let me know if there’s any progress.”

She doesn’t respond. Bellamy picks up a very fidgety Heaven. “Now what?”

The hall is pitch black—not even the emergency lights are working. He’s not sure where they even are anymore. The thunder becomes less of a rumble under their feet and more like crashing cymbals, vibrating his teeth. _Must be near the outside of the ship_. Sure enough, when they get to the end of the hall, a flash of lightning dimly lits a side passage. _Guess we’ll go that way._

Bellamy nearly laughs when he sees where they’ve ended up. _Again_. He peers through the window of the observatory doors. The place is a mess of scaffolding and equipment. The room lights up suddenly with a brilliant flash, nearly blinding him in the darkness. Heaven starts fussing, pointing at the door.

“I don’t know if we should go in. Raven might get mad.”

Heaven points at the control panel then back at the door. It might be their last chance to be in their special room. _Raven is so going to kill me._ He starts to punch in his code, but Heaven smacks his hand away, pressing it in for him. The panel lights up green as the airlock engages, locking the other door and opening theirs.

“Smarty pants,” he mumbles into her ear then kisses her temple. On the other side, she slaps the button that reverses the process, opening the door to the observation room.

Right away, Bellamy knows something is different. The air is cool and humid. He can hear the rain pounding the station while the lightning creates a strobe effect in the center of the room. Heaven squirms until he puts her down, running to the dome. The thunder finally comes, shaking the station for a good twenty seconds straight. _This isn’t good at all._

Bellamy joins Heaven staring at the sky filled with swirling colors and fingers of lightning branching out, occasionally spitting to the ground. It’s terrifying and beautiful at once. “Wow,” is all he can manage to say.

Transfixed, they watch for long minutes as the storm rages. In the flashes of lightning, Bellamy can see Raven’s crew scrambling over the broken structure of the Ark. Repairing the transformer. _But something isn’t right_. The thunder suddenly quiets and Bellamy hears it—their screams reaching through the steel hull. _No_.

“Oh, god.”

Heaven starts dancing under the strobe effect of the lightning. Bellamy, though, can’t take his eyes off of the crew desperately trying to get out of the rain. The station shudders, and it takes him a second to realize these tremors aren’t from the thunder. He watches in horror as one of the crew falls off the side of the station. Then another. _No, they’re not falling—they’re jumping._ Acid burns his stomach as it twists into tighter knots. _Black rain_. And there’s still a guy up on the struts.

Bellamy has never felt more helpless as the guy’s grip gives ten feet above the station. He lands with a thud and doesn’t move. _This isn’t happening._

_But it is._

Everything seems to slow down, but really, it’s all a matter of seconds. The lights flicker to life, and the external door screeches open.

“Help,” someone calls weakly. “We need help.”

Bellamy tugs the radio free from his belt, heart racing. “Bellamy to Medbay. Abby, come in? Jackson?”

Heaven notices the voices, too. He snatches her up, forcing her face into the crook of his neck. He has no idea what to do. _Help or protect Heaven?_

_You see why this will never work?_

Bellamy wants to scream at the voice, but it’s right. It’s always right. _This is a nightmare_. He squeezes Heaven tighter as she squirms.

“Bellamy?” Abby calls back a moment later. “What’s wrong?”

It takes a second to force down the bile stuck in his throat. “The rain-” He trails off, voice flat. “Prepare for wounded. And casualties. It’s bad. We’re in the observation room.”

Apparently sensing something wrong, Heaven settles in his arms. She reaches behind his neck to twirl his hair. Bellamy doesn’t know what else to do but wait at the door for the medics. And feel helpless.


	34. You Didn't Have a Choice

“Please help,” a familiar voice rasps. “Help us.” _Jaha_.

The impotent feeling fuels rampant anxiety. Bellamy doesn’t know what to do with Heaven because he knows this isn’t going to be good. But he can’t not do anything. Like Kane pointed out—this is who he is. He has to help.

He sets Heaven on a crate. “Stay here,” he says firmly. She gets the idea, pulling in her knees, squishing Bae to her chest. _Good. She’ll stay_. He hopes.

There’s a barrel of water off to the side marked as clean. Probably for the crew to drink while they’re working. Bellamy grabs a bucketful and braces himself.

Six people, including Jaha, sprawl out in various states of duress. It’s worse than anything he expected. Worse than Pendleton. He gags but pushes forward towards the least wounded. _The ones that might be saved._

Jaha looks up at him with unseeing eyes. “Help.”

“They’re coming. Here.” He puts the bucket in front of Jaha’s shaking hands. The man cries out when he splashes the water onto his skin but doesn’t stop.

Bellamy searches for another container. He doubts it will help any, but he feels useful. He finds a plastic crate that he fills for the next victim—a woman he knows only as Six. The others look barely able to move. Bellamy gives up on buckets, dragging the half-empty barrel over to the group. One has already died.

He yanks the walkie from his belt. “Abby, where the hell are you? We need medical in the observation room. There are wounded.” His hands shake as he pours water on a man—a kid, really. The boy barely moves, his skin blistered. His lips repeat unheard words, reminding Bellamy of Pendleton in his last moments. _Kill me._ Bellamy keeps working for a few minutes before returning to the radio. “Abby!”

“We’re here!” she shouts from behind him. He glances over his shoulder as the medical team rushes in with gurneys and equipment. They’re loud and fast. Bellamy barely has time to stumble out of the way. Abby doesn’t even ask what happened, just shouts orders at her team.

There’s nothing left for Bellamy to do except be in the way now. He returns to the crate, heart heavy, but Heaven is gone. _Not now. Don’t do this now._ Through the thunder and the screams and yelling, he hears a little sniffle. Relief floods his system as he searches between the crates. Heaven is curled into a ball in the corner, face stained with tears. He doesn’t blame her—he wants to cry, too.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Come on out.” Heaven crawls over, dragging Bae behind her. She immediately clings to his neck, nearly pulling out his hair above his collar. Bellamy winces but doesn’t stop her. At least he knows he’s alive if he can still feel pain. He honestly doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. _Being alive. What does that even mean anymore?_ “Let’s get out of here.”

Out in the hall, Bellamy leans against the wall, trying not to vomit up the little breakfast he ate. More people rush past to help. He takes a few more settling breaths then leaves on shaky legs.

Turning the corner, he sees Raven limping his way as fast as her busted leg will take her. Bellamy hurries up, grabbing Raven’s arm and pulling her away from the carnage. “You don’t want to go in there.”

She thrashes against his grip. “Let me go!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Those are my people, Bellamy, I need to help.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “This- this is my fault.”

His grip tightens. “No, it’s not.”

She continues to struggle. “You don’t understand. I sent them out there. My decision got them hurt. I need to check on them.”

“You think I don’t understand? That I don’t know what it’s like to make hard decisions? You think I was okay with arming a bunch of kids and sending them into a war? I get it, Raven.”

“You didn’t have a choice.” She sniffles, her resistance waning.

“And neither did you. Someone had to fix the transformer, and don’t say it should have been you because as much as it sucks to lose those people, it would have been worse to lose you. We will not survive five months, let alone five years, without you keeping this place running.” He pulled her closer. “Don’t do this to yourself, Raven. It won’t help them.”

Raven collapses against him. “I killed them.”

“No, you didn’t—the storm did” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and guides her back to engineering.

She trembles in his grasp. “How many made it inside?”

Bellamy forces a lump down, not sure if he should tell the truth or try to make her feel better. He’d want the truth, though. _Give it to me straight so I have all of the facts up front no matter how painful they are_. “Six,” he whispers into her hair. “Jaha, Six, and a few others.”

Raven cries into his shoulder. He doesn’t know what to do with her like this. Raven’s one of the strongest people he knows. Seeing her broken feels wrong. Flips his world upside down.

When they get to engineering, Bellamy sets Heaven on a table. She watches them quietly, thumb in her mouth. _She shouldn_ _’t be here. This isn’t any kind of life for a child._ He squeezes her knee to reassure her; Heaven wraps her free hand around his finger.

_You can_ _’t do this to her._

_I know_.

Raven takes a ragged breath and wipes the tears from her eyes. “What do I do now?”

Bellamy rolls over a stool for her to perch on. “We wait. Let Abby do her thing. Then-”

“Right.” She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He doesn’t have to tell her the chances are slim that anyone survives. She knows better than anyone. “And after that?”

“I don’t know.” Bellamy stares at one of the lights until the image is burned into his vision. “They died heroes, Raven. Despite the danger, despite the high chance the storm would turn, they stayed out there. Even after the rain started, they continued to work until the lights came back on.”

They’re all quiet, lost in their thoughts. The silence relaxes Heaven. She crawls across the table to explore a box of junk collected from outside. Occasionally, she pulls out an item to inspect further, nose scrunched.

“She’s adorable,” Raven says, softly.

“Yeah.”

“She’s been good for you, Bellamy.”

Bellamy cringes, looking anywhere but at Raven. “I don’t-”

“She has. Before you found her, you were, I don’t know, so down. Lost inside yourself. It’s nice to see you smiling again.”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. Indra’s going to find a Grounder to take her in.” He considers telling her about the curse, but she has enough on her mind. “She’d never let me keep her.”

Raven shakes her head. Before she can comment further, Bellamy redirects the conversation. “What are we going to do about the transformers? We can’t have them outside once the Death Wave comes.”

She sighs, but he’s not sure if it’s from frustration or the change of subject. “The only reason we have them is because the station was such a wreck with broken connections everywhere, but we’ve been working on the wiring since then and have set up a substation in the storage bay.”

_That_ _’s some good news._

“It’ll be a few days before we can get back out there and reroute from the transformer completely.”

Bellamy frowned. “The storms are getting worse. We’re going to have to close the doors soon.”

“I know that. But if we don’t disconnect from outside, we’re screwed.”

He didn’t push further because he knew Raven was thinking the same thing as him—they’ll have to send people up, possibly to their deaths. Instead, he slides another chair over and watches Heaven entertain herself with the junk box and leaves Raven to her thoughts.


	35. Knock It Off

The lights begin flickering again as they turn the corner to Medbay. _That can’t be good._ The infirmary, though, is lit up like the noon-day sun thanks to emergency batteries and backup generators.

Raven rubs her forehead. She’s probably running probabilities and equations in her head, determining how long they have before the station fails completely. Bellamy does not envy her.

“I wish Sinclair was here,” she murmurs. “Someone else I couldn’t save.”

_Damn_. Bellamy doesn’t know what else to do except wrap an arm around her. “He’d be proud of you.”

She shrugs. “Things wouldn’t be falling apart with him.”

“Sinclair was good, but he wasn’t a miracle worker.”

“Says you.”

Heaven lets go of his hand and runs over to her artwork, producing a crayon out of nowhere. _Where did that come from?_ Bellamy shakes his head then peeks in the door. Curtains block the operating tables. _Not a good sign._ A nurse appears at the window, scowling.

“We just want an update,” Bellamy says through the window.

After a moment, the door opens slightly. “It doesn’t look good,” the nurse says, avoiding Raven eyes. “They’re still working on Jaha.”

“What about the others?” Raven asks, sounding a little frantic.

The nurse’s face drops. “I’m sorry.” She disappears before Bellamy can get any more information. Not that he expects anything but more bad news.

Raven falls against the wall, face in her hands. _Shit_. Bellamy drags over a broken chair before she falls over. He has no idea what to say to her so he squeezes her shoulder in solidarity. How many kids did he lose? The battle at the dropship was inevitable, and so were the deaths. He couldn’t have stopped it. It still hurts, though. He still regrets having to order those kids to die. _I couldn’t save them any more than Raven could save Sinclair._

Hours pass with Bellamy periodically asking for updates that are always vague, and Raven alternating between frantic rage and near catatonia. He tries to distract himself by making lists of all the things he needs to do. Mundane things like paperwork and showering. It doesn’t really work. Raven stares into space again, lost in her guilt and responsibilities.

“So here’s where all the lights went,” Murphy says, coming around the corner. “Figures Abby would be stealing-” He trails off at the sight of Raven’s pale face.

Bellamy shakes his head. “Not now, Murphy.”

“What’s going on?”

Bellamy grabs Murphy’s arm, dragging him several feet away. “Just leave her alone. She lost a quarter of her crew when this storm turned lethal. While they were working to turn your lights back on.”

Murphy doesn’t take his eyes from Raven. “Oh,” is all he says.

Heaven comes over and pulls on his pants, showing him her doll. “I mean it—those were her friends out there so-”

“Hey, some of those people are my friends too, you know. I do have some.” Murphy glares at him, but there’s a layer of hurt in his eyes that punches Bellamy in the gut.

Bellamy sighs, looking over at Raven again. He’s too tired for this right now. “Sorry.” He rubs his eyes. “I didn’t mean-”

“Whatever.”

Heaven stomps her foot for attention. “Okay, in a minute,” he tells her. “I don’t know what to do for her,” he nods at Raven. “She’s been like this for the last hour.”

“Well, sitting around here can’t be healthy.”

“I can’t get her to leave. She wanted to see them right away. I practically had to carry her out of the room.”

“What do we do?”

Bellamy doesn’t miss the “we” in that question. Murphy’s concern surprises him a little considering the complicated history between the two.

_He shot her._

_Maybe it’s guilt? Is Murphy even capable of feeling remorse?_ He’s still watching Raven, a crease between his eyebrows. _Maybe he is._

Heaven yanks on his pants then smacks his leg. Bellamy pats her head, letting out a long breath. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do. She has to work through this on her own.”

Murphy turns his frown on Bellamy. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea. With all the pressure she’s under, she might-”

Heaven smacks him harder then throws the doll at him. “Knock it off, will you!” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“Snap,” Murphy finishes.

Heaven bursts into tears. _Jesus Christ_. Dropping to his knees, Bellamy picks up the doll. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” She snatches the doll back but won’t look at him. _Could this day get any worse_? He cups her little face in his hands and presses his forehead against hers, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry, Heaven,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to scare you, okay?”

She whimpers for a second then lifts the doll for him to see. She points at its mouth like she’s feeding it. Bellamy feels like shit. “Are you hungry?” She blinks at him, not understanding the words. “Okay. We’ll find something for you to eat in a minute.” He stands, settling Heaven in his arms.

His friends are staring. “You sure you’re okay?” Murphy asks hesitantly.

Bellamy takes a moment to center himself. Heaven lays her head on his shoulder and starts playing with his hair. That does the trick. “I’m fine.”

“You just yelled at a toddler.”

Bellamy glares. “Mind your own business.”

Murphy visibly bristles—brewing for a fight. _Great, just what I need._ Before Bellamy can say anything, Murphy sighs. “I’ll stay with Raven. Go get the kid something to eat before she hurts someone.”

Bellamy squeezes the bridge of his nose, glancing from Murphy to Raven. “I don’t-” _This is a bad idea._

“I can handle babysitting the basket case for an hour.”

_A really bad idea_. “Murphy-”

“I’m kidding. I’ll keep an eye on her. Best behavior.”

Bellamy scoffs. Raven scowls at both of them. The look loud and clear—“you leave me with him, and I will hurt you.”

“I swear to god, Murphy, if I get murdered in my sleep tonight, I will come back and haunt your ass for eternity.”

Murphy laughs. Even Raven has a hard time maintaining her glare. But then she seems to remember why she’s there, and the small smile falls away. Bellamy sighs. This is a monumentally bad idea, but what can he do? “Thanks.”

“Whatever. You’ll owe me,” Murphy says with a shrug.

“I will hurt you,” Raven says as Bellamy passes. He’s not sure if she’s talking to him or Murphy. _Probably both_.

When they get to the end of the hall, he watches Murphy squat in front of Raven, his fingers tapping gently on her knee to get her attention. It’s a gentle side of Murphy Bellamy’s never seen before.

He wonders what Murphy was like as a kid. Before all of this. Before they floated his father and his mother blamed him for the death. That does things to a person. Raven snorts at something Murphy says then covers her face, shoulder shaking. Murphy just continues to watch her, speaking softly.

Bellamy’s amazed the two can be in the same room with each other and live. Out of all of them, Raven’s probably had it the worst. And Murphy is the main cause of that. They all know it. But maybe, in the end, it’s bonded them in ways no one will ever understand. He glances at Heaven sucking her thumb. Or maybe he can understand.

Bellamy leaves them to their private conversation and heads for the mess hall again.


	36. Show a Little Respect

The mess hall is quiet when they get there. It’s in between meals and obvious word’s already traveled. People are in shock and scared. It’s a vivid reminder of why they’re in here. The tension in the room would need a chainsaw to get through it.

Bellamy finds Harper and Monty sitting at a table drinking tea. More like staring into their steaming mugs. He sets Heaven across from them and digs her uneaten apples from his pocket. She immediately gets to feeding Bae. Nobody says anything for a long time.

“Is it as bad as they’re saying?” Harper finally asks.

Bellamy rubs his face. “Seven dead. They were still working on Jaha when I left. It doesn’t look good, though.”

Harper huffs. “Good. If anyone deserves to die, it’s that asshole.”

Monty slams his hand onto the table, getting the attention of just about everyone in the room. “Show a little respect,” he growls. There’s a twinge of danger in his voice Bellamy’s never heard before. “He nearly died fixing the station for you. Risking his life so you can have lights. Not all of them were so lucky.”

The color drains from Harper’s face, but she grits her teeth. “He got hundreds killed with his stupid City of Light. He’s-”

“And I murdered three hundred eighty-five people in Mt. Weather. We’ve all killed. Some of us more than others. At least Jaha can say he was under the influence of the psychotropic effects of ALIE. I only have myself to blame.” Monty visibly shakes with barely contained fury.

“Monty,” Harper says weakly, reaching for him, but he turns away.

She looks to Bellamy, obviously confused by Monty’s outburst. Bellamy’s stomach sours and knots. _Has Monty been feeling that way the entire time? God, why didn’t I pay more attention?_  Bellamy wishes he knew what to say, but he’s not sure there even is anything.

People at other tables whisper and look over their shoulders at them. Bellamy presses a thumb between his eyes, groaning internally. It’s been one catastrophe after another. Guilt gnaws at him. His friends are falling apart, and he was too wrapped up in his own pathetic life to notice. He glances at Heaven who’s watching them with a furrowed brow. _Maybe not so pathetic. But that isn’t going to last much longer. Then what excuse will I have?_

A chair screeches across the floor. Murphy spins it around, straddling it at the end of the table, a bottle of water twisting in his hands.

Harper glares at him. “What do you want?”

The water bottle slams onto the table. “What is your problem, McIntyre?”

“You are always my problem, Murphy.”

“I’m honored to be in your thoughts so often, but you’re not my type,” he says with a smirk.

“Murphy,” Bellamy warns, with a sigh. “Do you need something?”

“I thought you’d want an update on Raven.” The plastic bottle crinkles in his hands.

“How is she?”

“Abby gave her something to calm down when they wouldn’t let her in MedBay. I took her back to Engineering. She didn’t need to sit there wallowing in her guilt. She said she was fine, but I wouldn’t leave her alone for too long, though.”

“I’ll go check on her,” Monty murmurs, shoulders slumped like the weight of the world rests on them.

Harper follows him, but when he shakes off her hand, she leaves the other way.

Bellamy sighs. “Thanks, Murphy, I appreciate it.”

Murphy shrugs like it’s no big deal then reaches across the table, pulling Harper and Monty’s discarded tea over, placing one in front of Bellamy and sipping the other. Bellamy just stares at it.

“Don’t tell me you’re this upset about Jaha, too. I get Raven—they’ve been working together for years—but you?”

Bellamy ignores the comment. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Kid keeping you up?”

Bellamy glances at Heaven who’s playing with her food, pretending to feed it to her doll. “No, my demons.”

Murphy looks like he wants to say more, but Clarke appears at the other side of the table and sits with a ration bar, face bleak. “I missed breakfast,” she tells them but makes no attempt to eat.

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” Murphy says like nothing is wrong. “Or so I heard. I got roped into sorting shit in Engineering again.” He glares at his water bottle.

“Here,” says Clarke. She slides the ration to Murphy. “I don’t think I can eat anyway.”

He rips a chunk off, popping it in his mouth then takes the tea from Bellamy and sets it in front of Clarke. “You should drink that—you look like you need it.”

Clarke stares at it a moment, pale and glassy-eyed, before taking a sip. “Jaha didn’t make it,” she whispers after putting down the cup.

Murphy’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything.

_Oh god. She was helping in MedBay._ Bellamy’s seen what the rain does to people—it’s something he can never unsee. Without thinking, he reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. She flips hers over, gripping his fingers.

A jolt shoots up his arm, setting off the butterflies again which are both comforting and inappropriate. _Now isn_ _’t the time. Clarke just needs a friend to lean on not a pining fool._ Heaven eyes their hands, chewing her apple violently. Murphy continues to act like everything is normal, eating his ration bar, eyes distant.

The whole scene is surreal and yet feels perfectly natural—like the four of them have lunch together every day. There’s a small part of him that wishes it were true.

Then Niylah joins them.

Bellamy’s butterflies turn to lead. He pulls his hand slowly from Clarke’s, pretending he needs to help Heaven with something as an excuse—not that Clarke notices. Niylah asks Clarke something in Grounder. Clarke whispers back then the other woman pulls her into a hug. Bellamy’s stomach is a black hole of emotion, sucking his lungs and heart down into it until it’s hard to breathe. When he looks up, Murphy’s watching him, and he swears there’s pity in his eyes. And understanding. _What_ _’s that about?_

Before he can figure it out, Murphy stands suddenly, breaking the awkward tension at the table. He tosses the rest of his rations at Heaven. “See, this is called sharing, kid. You should learn it some time.” Heaven glares at Murphy then the food then Murphy again before grabbing the ration bar to add to her collection. Murphy snorts. “I’m gonna go check on Emori. She doesn’t like to leave our quarters alone.”

“Why not?” Clarke asks.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment like he’s trying to figure out if Clarke is serious or not. Then lets out a breath. “It’s not safe for her. In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re not particularly welcoming towards Grounders around here.”

“And,” Niylah adds softly, “the other Grounders still see her as an outcast. She won’t be welcome there either.”

“No, she’s not,” Murphy agrees, bitterly.

Bellamy frowns. “Has anything happened to her? Has anyone been hassling her?” He looks at Niylah. “Or you?”

Murphy huffs. “Who doesn’t hassle her. If it isn’t because she’s a Grounder, it’s because she’s my girlfriend. I’m not exactly popular.”

Niylah shakes her head. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“There have been some attacks—on both sides. I told Indra I’d try to figure out who’s behind them, so if anything happens, let me know.”

“Just call him Sherlock Blake,” Murphy says, laughing dryly.

Bellamy shoots him a warning look. “Didn’t you have someplace to be?”

Murphy puts his hands up as he walks away. “I’m going. No need to get the cuffs out.”

Bellamy’s retort dies on his tongue as the lights go out again. Heaven squawks along with half the mess hall. Without exterior windows, it’s pitch black until someone lights a candle across the room. Bellamy lets his head fall against the table. “This day just gets better and better,” he mumbles. Clarke doesn’t offer a comforting hand.

For some reason, that hurts more than he thinks it should.


	37. Confused and Conflicted

One of the girls that works in the mess hall passes out candles. Bellamy’s is in a little tin cup. Clarke and Niylah share one which means they’re going to be together after lunch. _Probably going back to Clarke’s quarters._

When Clarke reaches for Niylah’s hand, he can’t take it anymore. He knows he’s being a jealous, petty ass, but it’s been a crappy couple of days, and after everything, he can’t watch the two of them together no matter how platonic their relationship might be.

“I’ve got some work to do,” he mumbles as he collects Heaven, Bae, and the scraps of food.

Clarke starts at his sudden movement. Niylah gives him a thoughtful look as usual. Her hand slips from Clarke’s—a lot more naturally than when Bellamy attempted the same thing minutes ago. S _he knows. Goddamnit, she knows. How does everyone know except Clarke?_

Maybe if you quit being an idiot and tell her.

Shut up.

“Bellamy-” Clarke says softly, tearing at his heart. But she doesn’t say anything else so he leaves. _Like an idiot_.

_She probably does know. You’re not exactly good at hiding your feelings, especially for Clarke._

_Then why doesn’t she say anything?_

_Because you don’t talk about it._

_But why does it have to be me that starts it?_

The thoughts spin in his head, adding to his ever-present headache. _Why does everything have to be so hard?_

“Bellamy, wait,” Niylah calls, catching up to him. She doesn’t have a candle. “I need to talk to you.”

“What about?” he asks in what he hopes is a neutral tone.

Niylah looks back at the mess hall. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Clarke, but-”

He tenses. “Something did happen to you.”

“Nothing serious—just several people near my quarters that yell obscenities. Some graffiti. Then yesterday-” She took a deep breath like she was making a decision then pulled up her sleeve. “One of my neighbors didn’t like the way I was looking at him.”

Bellamy sees red. He hates to think any Arkadian could be that cruel, but he knows it’s true and will get worse. “What’s the neighbor’s name?”

Niylah hesitates. “I’d rather not say—I don’t want to cause more trouble; I just thought you should know.”

_Now I’ll have to talk to everyone in that hall._ To Niylah, he nods. “Thanks for letting me know. If anything else happens-”

“I know.” She smiles at Heaven then returns to Clarke. Bellamy waits until she’s near the weak light coming from the mess hall before he leaves

_Nothing is ever easy._ At least his excuse to Clarke isn’t a lie anymore—he really does have some work to do.

Thankfully, the guard office is empty. He sets Heaven on one side of the desk, clearing a space for the candle, and rips another page from the old ledger book. He sets it and the marker in front of Heaven.

Heaven’s grin calms his nerves and eases the dread knotting his stomach. He watches her scribble intently for a minute before grabbing the closest tablet. 

“Bae,” Heaven says, holding up the paper.

Bellamy smiles. “It looks just like her.”

Heaven nods like she agrees then gets back to work, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. _She’s adorable. She’s exactly what’s been missing in his life_. The thought startles him, and he shoves it away, focusing on the tablet.

He scrolls through the files, looking for the reports from the yard incident. There are seven now including the one he’d typed up when he couldn’t sleep. The others are from Miller and his dad, Cadet Camden, and Harper. Tyson and Olsen also each filed a report. Half of them didn’t see anything, and the other half are full of shit. There is no way those two grounders started something with Henderson with all of those people around. Sure the grounders like to fight, but they’re not stupid.

Of course, the reports he can trust—from the Millers and Harper—didn’t see the fight start but were there when it escalated into a near-riot. The cadet’s account sounds coached so probably useless. Tyson’s and Olsen’s reports are the most interesting. According to them, they saw the Grounder prisoners attack an unsuspecting Henderson. They did their best to control the fight but were outnumbered and attacked themselves.

Bellamy tosses the tablet onto the table. _What a bunch of bullshit. Control the fight? Control it so that Henderson had a better chance of beating the Grounders. Outnumbered? Maybe by the Guard trying to stop the riot but there were only two Grounders there._ He feels a sick growl building at the back of his throat. He’d wanted to be a guard since he was ten and figured out he could help keep his family safe that way, but this isn’t the Guard he joined six years ago.

Heaven yawns so he sets her on the sofa, tucking his jacket around her. She curls up with Bae, a little smile on her face. And, god, his heart is shattering because this is going to all be over in another day.

Then life can go back to normal.

He wishes he knew what the hell normal was. And why it had to be so miserable.

With a heavy sigh, he drops back into his chair and rubs at his face. The tablet’s harsh light isn’t doing anything for his headache, but he goes over the reports again, noticing one thing missing—statements from the Grounders. He frowns. It’s not surprising considering what happened. There also wasn’t anything he could do about it at the moment. He glances at Heaven, already snoring softly.

_Could all go back to normal,_ the voice goads.

His head falls against the metal desk. He bangs it softly a couple times, frustrated.

“Knock, knock,” someone says at the door. Bellamy looks up at David Miller. “I didn’t want to wake her.’

Bellamy looks over at Heaven again. “She’s kind of used to it by now. Did you need something?”

“Oh, no, I just left my jacket earlier.” He points to it hanging behind the desk. Bellamy leans back and snatches it from the hook. He expects David to just leave, but the older man fidgets, twisting the jacket between his hands. “Nathan says Kane’s really been pressuring you about this Commander thing.”

Bellamy makes a face and pretends to go back to reading reports. “He’s crazy.”

“I know you don’t believe it, Bellamy, but there are those of us that support you. You’re exactly what we need here. I know you see the mess things are in. Loyalties are split, morale is low, accountability is almost nonexistent. Kane’s too busy worrying about keeping us all alive.”

“Did he send you over here to sell me on his crazy plan?”

David grins. “No. I wasn’t planning on getting involved-”

“No more than throwing my name into the hat.”

David sits in Heaven’s abandoned chair. “If you want my opinion, I think we need someone younger in charge. Someone that didn’t live by the old rules. Someone that has experience with the Grounders, and not the kind of experience Tyson and his goons have. They don’t see them as people. And I know you have your issues with them-”

“Number one being they all want me dead.”

“But from everything Nate’s told me, you’d never let your personal feelings get in the way of doing your job.”

“Well, I’m not sure where Nate was those first months on the ground because it apparently wasn’t in my camp. We survived because of Clarke, not me. I just made things worse.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Bellamy.”

Bellamy sighs, leaning back. He shoves his hands through his hair. “David, I appreciate the pep talk and your faith, however misguided, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this job when the Grounders are plotting to kill me and at least a quarter of the Guard kicked the crap out of me the other day. I can’t do this.”

“What were you doing before I came in here?”

Bellamy takes a moment to answer, blindsided by the sudden change of subject. “I was reading through the reports from the attack.”

“Why? It’s not your job to read reports and investigate crimes. You’re a guard. Barely above a cadet. Do you even have a rank?”

Bellamy crosses his arms irritated. “Your point?”

“You know my point. You have to take care of everything and everyone yourself, and you would hate yourself if something happened that you can prevent. What you did with those kids—keeping them alive, getting them out of Mt. Weather—isn’t something to scoff at. A bunch of juvenile delinquents with authority issues. But you did it because you couldn’t _not_ do it.” He stands, slipping on his jacket. “Maybe it’s time you have a little faith in yourself.”

Just as David gets to the door, the lights pop back on, nearly blinding them. David grins. “A sign?”

David leaves Bellamy feeling even more confused and conflicted. _He_ _’s crazy. Just as crazy as Kane._

_But what if they_ _’re not?_

Bellamy shakes his head. _They are. End of story._


End file.
